The Culmination of My Genius: Tales of Rum

None of this will make any sense if you don't read "My Cunning Master Plan."

So, I'm brilliant after all. The proof? I have two mickeys to show for my grandest achievement to date: the completion of my fourth year undergraduate thesis. Now, I know it doesn't sound like much (8 months of research and writing, that's four months per mickey, which means that I certainly won't have enough to get me drunk for the next 8), but it really is the thought that counts.

Dennis teased me a while ago that my supervisor did not want to yell at me about my first draft, she just wanted to give me a medal of rum and ice cream. Of course he knew how happy that would make me, even while we both knew full well it was impossible. So when he came down for my presentation that is just what he brought me--almost. He doesn't know London very well and is kind of lazy about finding grocery stores, so he grabbed the Easter chocolate that his mother bought him and gave me that instead. At least it was chocolate. At least it was shaped like a penguin.

Rory and Shane followed a similar path, but with slightly less luck. Shane showed up "early" to pick Rory up...they would have been 15 minutes early instead of 2 minutes late (you'd think they were responsible for the London Transit schedule with timing like that). Shane bought Rory Quiznos, so Rory had enough money to buy me rum. Therefore, Shane claims responsibility for the whole thing. They didn't get ice cream either, but it was because they were going to be late and the ice cream would have melted. On the way to the school I told Rory, "Don't worry about it. You can just take me to Marble Slab when I'm done presenting." To which he responded, "Ya right! What do you think I am? Made of money?" I wish. Then maybe they wouldn't have ran out of gas and Rory wouldn't have had to waste all his good acting skills on pretending to push the car while Dennis did all the work.

The first half mickey was used to relax me after my Women's lit exam. I left my mom at my apartment to start packing up; she drank a bottle of wine and talked on the phone to her aunt for an hour. I was greeted with, "Did you know what? I never knew this but I am Irish." When I asked her how she spent the night she said, "Well I talked to Aunt Alice for a long time. And I got some packing done--see! Oh and I drank a LOT of wine." Classy, Mom. Really classy. For some reason, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get drunk and air all of my grievances to her. It kind of worked. In the best way that getting drunk and making people angry at their spouses and sons can. At about midnight my mom wanted to call my dad and scream at him for not taking it seriously enough when we realized that Jeff took my ring.

So I got loaded with my mom, drinking the other half after my PoCo exam Saturday night. We had no furniture, but Rogers hadn't cut off the cable yet so we tried to watch South Park on my comforter with some pillows. Part way through I decided that I needed to find out if I'd been excluded from the night out with Tobin. So I text messaged Dennis. Ten seconds later he called to yell at me for sending him text messages to his phone because it didn't have service anymore. When I tried to explain what the message said (because I thought that was why he was yelling at me), he yelled some more and told me that he knew what it said. Then I helped him figure out how to send Tobin a facebook message and hid in the washroom talking to him for a little while. Every now and then, Dennis would say, "Wow you are so drunk." And I would laugh uncontrollably. When I woke up in the morning I realized that Dennis must also have been drunk because he never calls anyone and he had called me.

The first half of Rory's mickey was used to help me sleep once I got back to Toronto. The odd drink here and there was all it took. Now the other half is waiting for me in the freezer. I would have finished it off though, if we hadn't had a splurge day and decided the best idea in the world was to get drunk by 2 in the afternoon and play video games between Rory's classes. I got to see George Brown as a result. They had a dungeon in the basement that is very creepy. Rory took my picture there. He drank almost as much wine as my mother had, and I drank enough lemon rum to keep me going. Then we bought a laptop and a dress from American Apparel. I drew the line at skinny jeans because I was becoming Rory too quickly and it scared me. I wanted to drink some more when we got back, but somebody had offered all of my mix to his basketball-watching buddies (jerk). I thought I had polished off the coke and felt the need to rethink whether or not I really needed anymore. I was drunk enough to believe that the coke was a better indicator of my drunkenness than the rum bottle would have been, so it was still probably the best choice for me.

So that about sums it up. I'm the smartest. I was rewarded for my genius with rum. Perfect. Actually, it seems to help. I'm going to finish up the rest of that lemon rum and maybe the rest of the mickey over the next couple of days to help me study Shakes and so that I can get this erotic novel of mine under way. It'll be fabulous. I'm not letting any of you read it.

PS The marks are in:88. I told you I'm a genius.

Revelations

Some days you need to force yourself out of bed so that your brain stops tormenting you. Some days you need to stay in bed so that your brain doesn't start tormenting you. Today, somehow, I needed to do both.

Everyone has their peccadilloes (or so I am told--in comparison to mine, they all seem relatively tame). Last night I discovered a new one. Well, it was not so much new as renewed. Know what I'm saying? I went to sleep around 2:30 with my head full of online games. In particular, I was very frustrated by Frost Bite...because Dennis is way better at it than I am, and because I couldn't get passed level 4. I spent the remainder of my night trying to figure out what my brain meant by "Dennis is done and Shane is not"--like it was the most important puzzle I could ever solve. I tried just believing it. "Okay, I get it, " I told myself. But lying to yourself is much harder than lying to other people. I didn't really get it, even when I thought I did. So I sat in bed and tried to understand what it meant and why it was important and whether or not I would have to share this information with them. I kept giving up, throwing a pillow (getting up to get it because I love my pillow) and then burying my head in another attempt to sleep through this madness.

I thought I'd found the solution when I decided that I could just think about a different dilemma, and trick my brain into forgetting this maddening revelation. Somehow, the two became very mixed up and I started thinking that Dennis was done with Antiguan nobility and Shane was still hung up on it. It wasn't pretty. There were more things thrown.

This morning I had a new revelation: I shouldn't sleep. It is bad for my nerves. Every Tuesday (set your calendar by it) I wake up super panicky and can't figure out why. Unless I can sleep until noon, the feeling never goes away. So I am sitting here at 12:27 AM on a Hostile Wednesday, still trying to deal with the aftermat of Tuesday. It's sad really. I rather like sleep. But if it is going to make me crazy then I would really like to know what other choice I have?

Some people suggest sleeping pills and I will tell you what is wrong with them: they paralyze your body but not your mind. Thus, I lay in bed unable to move and try to figure out why Dennis is done and Shane is not and what difference that could possibly make in my life. Now while I'm sitting here wide awake I wonder if I've inverted my revelation and stumbled perhaps onto some sort of subconscious tidbit of moderately important information--and I'm sure I'll spend the whole night trying to decide.

6 Reasons Why Going to Chapters is Almost the Same as Writing a Paper

With only slight emphasis on the "almost"...

1. It makes you hate Hegel. He said something something about history, but in a very convoluted and German way. I don't know what it means. But I know I'm supposed to.
2. You do things you aren't supposed to. When I'm supposed to write a paper, I play games, talk to people, spend way too many hours on research...When I'm at Chapters I spend all my money on books I don't have time to read.
3. You talk to strangers. To write a paper I usually end up having at least one awkward conversation with someone (on the bus or in class) in which I attempt to explain my very fucked up logic. Today at Chapters Amanda and I started laughing because some guy was talking about excellent sentence structre. He offered to help find us jobs. Talking to strangers is good, no matter what our parents have told us.
4. Caffeine. There's a starbucks at Chapters and I'm always wired when I write a paper. Well, wired or buzzed...one of the two at least.
5. You wander around aimlessly doing pointless things. Last week I amused myself for nearly an hour reading book titles. "I just want you to know tomorrow you are going to kill me and my family." Look for it. I swear it's real.
6. You fall asleep sitting up. And then someone says, "You've been hiding!" but really you are just tired of thinking and walking and standing...

The Day I Lost My Mind Completely

I understand that the majority of you think I'm a little nuts to start, but today, I actually lost my mind completely. Well, last night I lost my mind. This morning I awoke in the aftermath, to find my mind gone...

Part A: Your favorite heroine does someone else's homework
Because I'm such a good friend, I did a homework assignment for a friend of mine, several months back. The assignment was to write a personal story, but to make it interesting enough to turn it into a movie. Now my friend leads a rather dull life, and he was having some difficulty coming up with a plot that was equally plausible and entertaining. I, with my mind working at the speed of light, decided he was in love with me, and wrote him a lovely story about how I broke his heart forever.
The story was a huge hit with his teacher, who felt so sorry for him that he always looked hat im like he wanted to find a way to mend my poor friend's heart (I'm serious. I know it's creepy.) Rory turned the story into a lovely movie thing (umm, you know DVD cover thing). There were lots of pictures of rye bottles that I didn't quite understand...

Part B: In which the heroine gets to the point
The story made me laugh. Every time I reread it, I wonder why Rory let me write it...why he ever used it. But last night I had writer's pause (I'm told there is no such thing as "block" because a "block" sounds insurmountable, but you have to work your way through writer's pause). So I got out the old story and revamped it. I'm thinking I could sell it to Harlequinn if I beef it up a little. I even wrote an "erotic" scene. Weird eh?

So at that point my mind was shamelessly blown away, out the window. I didn't know it at the time, and feeling fatigue setting in, I checked the alarm and went to bed.

Part C: The Day I Realized I'd Lost My Mind Completely...
When I woke up this morning, the radio was blarring. I hit the snooze and thought, ya ten more minutes is all I need. When it went off the second time I almost broke it. Damn noise. I just wanted some sleep.

Part D: The Explanation
In all honesty, I have no solution to the sound of this pollution in me (when I wake up in the break down of the things I never thought I could be...) Tuesdays will always be trouble. Harlequin is going to sign me up for a three book deal--they just don't know it yet. My mind is almost back, but I need your help. Remind me why if life is the problem (and that's just baffling--according to Jenny Lewis) I keep on waking up--and breathing. Fuck breathing (it's a total waste of time.)

So I'm exhausted of Midnight's Children, but I'm thinking that I could totally do with some Salman Rushdie. If that's not baffling, I don't know what is. Tomorrow: part two of I QUIT LIFE FOREVER (the dramatic series...)

My Cunning Master Plan

Yes, it is still cunning if I tell you all the details because I had to think it up first.

Item 1: My thesis presentation is tentatively scheduled for Friday, April 13 and I am inviting every one to come and listen to me talk about the role of language and performativity in identity formation and reality in Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. I kid you not. That's really what it is about.

Item 2: I am telling you this so that I have no one to blame but every one of you when no one shows up and my heart shatters in disappointment.

Item 3: I am telling you that my heart will shatter so that you will actually come to my presentation.

Item 4: But you don't have to if you don't want to.

Item 5: Bring rum and ice cream. I have an exam in the morning but who needs to be sober to write, really? Not Hemingway that is for sure.

Seriously, rum and ice cream to celebrate the culmination of my genius. Please.

Expect the Worst

And you will never be disappointed...

I was presented with two conflicting possible interpretations of my thesis supervisor's intentions when she asked to see me in person.

One: Jean said, "Oh that can't be good. She's going to kill you!" I was inclined to agree. I figured she was going to have a fit because I subjected her to that paper. I pictured her with a knife saying, "You spent ten pages on plot! Contextualize this!" And killing me.

Two: Dennis said, "I bet she just wants you to go see her so that she can give you a medal made of rum and ice cream." Wouldn't that be something?

Well, she didn't kill me, but I was majorly disappointed about the lack of a rum and ice cream medal. Maybe someone will give me one of those to make me feel better. A girl can dream...Jean owes me a party for doing my thesis on Rushdie (she said that she would take me to Red Lobster for lobsterfest instead but I think she is a liar). She is also quickly approaching the deadline to get me my fourth year graduating present. (No, I haven't forgotten.)

The moral of the story? Expect the worst--you'll never be disappointed.

The Funniest Email Ever Written

Rory is round brackets and I am the square ones. Funniest conversation ever.


The absence of God will bring you comfort, baby(You) [let's hope so because his presence has been useless most of my life](Yeah, mayjor let down)[the majorest](F god)[up the bum with a rubber thumb](PERV)

And planning's for the poor so let's pretend that we're rich (Me) [but you like planning about new zealand](Yes, true but I >also said I to do what makes you happy out of context?) [well if you pretend> you're rich i guess that's like pretending you're happy](money isnt happy)[but poor people plan because they don't have the money to do it...](Suckers)

And I'm not my body or how I choose to destroy it (You)[alcohol...](Wiskey Sours) [so both of us...](It is now)[we rule]( did you lcbo today)

Folk singers sing songs for the working, baby (?) [this reminds me of the Simpsons when the nuclear plant goes on stirke and lisabrings a guitar to the protest but she never played the guitar before](that's stupid)[you're stupid](No you are)[im brilliant...and modest to boot](and self centered)

We're just recreation for all those doctors and lawyers (You/Me) [if you can't beat them, join them? or get a sturdier weapon...](I hate doctors/lawyers)[i want to beat them...and brendan because i need my book back](put him on the list)[oh he's on it...how do you> know about the list?](you told me)

There's no relief for the bleeding heart (You) [another reason i'm not allowed to talk in dtp any more](I got nothing)[poor little flower](thanks)[lol i meant the bleeding hearts]

'Cause they'll be losing bodies tonight (?) [the doctors and the lawyers are going to ruin us...](Read up two)[they would lose our bodies](Shitty news)[meh what do we care we'll be dead](Alive in our minds)

And Rory says you love, love, love and then you DIE (Me) [you would say that](thanks)[you're quite welcome...i would emphasize the die part if i was you](done)[atta boy](WOO)

I've watched him(her) while sleeping and seen him crying with closed eyes(Me) [aww poor crying rory](I'm actually watching some one cry)[who is that](I dunno. its because i marred them tho..eww)[oh you jerk! haha](umm sorry)

And you're not happy but you're funny(You)[at least i'm funny...](the>funniest)[thanks](a bunch)
and I'm tripping over my joy But I just keep on getting up again (Me) [doof](jerk)[you're clumsy](can't help that now)[so dont call me a jerk you doof](sorry your the doof)

We could be daytime drunks if we wanted (Me/You) [we SHOULD be i'm telling you](Next Time dear)[when? tomorrow i'm going to the liquor store](what are you getting?)[probably rum but maybe vodka and juice](shnapps)

We'd never get anything done that way baby (Me/You) [who needs to get things done?](not us were quiters)[are we ever quitters](Procrastinators of quiting)[ya what the hell we cant even decide to quit](I say we do but not right now)

And we'd still be ruled by our dueling perspectives (Me/You) [we would be, but we would be too drunk to duel...or maybe just drunk enough](Every day)[we should duel at ford](ok your on)[with picking sticks]

And I'm not my perspective (?) [me because i dont know what my perspective is until i am supposed to duel](ugh this is getting hard)[haha i almost said something inappropriate about hardness](No,dirty mind its about pillows)[lol i'll have to remember that](yes indubetably)

Or the lies I'll tell you every time(?) [me again because i'm a liar](i try not to be)[i know you are wonderful...but Nietzsche says there is no truth](blah blah blah. thats what i hear)[thinking there's truth is arrogant]

And Morgan says, maybe love won't let you down (Me)[but it probably will](never love conquers all)[conquer this...](a mountain?)[no i was shaking my fist](mountain dew is like no other drink experiance)

All of your failures are training grounds (Me) [you don't have failures](yeah sure do)[i dont believe you](alot. I let my parents down everyday)[they have misplaced expectations...you will never fail in my eyes](this last post is failing)

And just as your back's turned you'll be surprised she says (?) [us because of the next line]

As your solitude subsides (You/Me) (sure)[solitude is always surprising when it subsides](i dunno what this means)[when you turnyour back to the world you'll be surprised because you still won't be alone...](I will be)

And Mike I'll teach you how to swim(?) [i already know how and there is no way i would trust mike with me in water](yeah eww)[super eww](BARF)[all that hair](eww)

If you turn the bad in me into good again(Me)[it is and always will be good]

And I say there's trouble When everything is fine (You) [ya okay i do that](yes alot)[im sorry dont hate me](I wont)[oh thank goodness]

The need to destroy things Creeps up on me every time (You) [and that is all dennis's fault...i wasnt destructive before i met him](true)[stupid dennis]

Just as love's silhouette appears I close my eyes and disappear tonight (Me) [disappearing is fun--i want to disappear](disappear with me)[done](poof!)[oooh a magician...disappear my rest lit class]

And something's got to change 'Cause our love's the slowest moving train (?) [me and shane...the slowest train ever](haha)[im not happy but im funny sigh*](mwah)[muahahahahahaha](um)

Misery Loves Company

But you just love my misery.

A list of things that makes my life difficult, and your life easier or more enjoyable:

1. Grumpiness. Regardless of what you tend to believe, being grumpy is hard work. Those rants, those raves...they take thought and effort to come up with. Today I yelled at the DVD player because it didn't skip past the FBI notice fast enough. Amanda laughed. I was really mad about the whole thing. Bad jokes too. The whole bit. It's killing me. Know what? that just means more grumpiness--lucky you.
2. Sociology essays about the application of Symbolic Interactionism to Automotive Management. You think it's easy to decide to compare the two? You think it's not downright painful to think in such demented ways? My liver thanks you though, it's been looking for a speedy way to go out with a bang--26er for my efforts sounds like the miracle cure.
3. My thesis. It contributes to both my grumpiness, which you find so charming, and my desire to write random papers for those who are depressed because they live in Barrie.
4. London. There's a Marble Slab here. That should make you happy. I spend the majority of my time in London staring at a computer screen and trying to think of synonyms for words like "symbol" and "history" and "identity". Wondering how this place could possibly look more depressing when it's melting than when I'm waist deep in snow. Well fuck.
5. The story I'm going to write. Young girl, at her wits end because everything that usually cheers her up has failed to uncrease the worry line on her forehead. "Ice cream," she thinks. "Ice cream...with baileys." She goes to the fridge only to discover that her bottle of mint-chocolate Bailey's is empty. The bottle smashes on the floor. She runs to the balcony and flings herself off of it. Barely hurt, certainly not dead, she lies in the melting snow imagining that this is how it feels to be dead. She loses her mind completely when she realizes that if this is what it is like to be dead, she'll be lying in her grave wondering whether the maggots and worms enjoy the taste of her heart.

The End.

Boredom Busters

You all are driving me crazy. Me, with 40 pages of just thesis to write over the next couple of weeks, you complaining that you've got nothing to do--you're bored? Well, here it is then, a list of things you can do for me to keep yourself occupied.

1. Find me a job. My freak phone interview was not so hot and I'm looking for something a little closer to home, since the most advice I can get on the age old transportation question is: "You can buy or lease a car." Wow, Dad. No wonder Ford is going to shit. People like him are running the place.
2. Read Midnight's Children for me and take notes on the following broad topics: performativity, identity, nationhood, history, and language. DON'T HIGHLIGHT THE WHOLE BOOK. I could do that myself.
3. Develop a coke habit. Okay, so this wouldn't really help me out. But you might be out of my hair for a while as you struggle with your addiction. Peace. At last. Until the intervention.
4. Help me develop this theory about where people sit on the bus. Can you tell me why some people stand even though there are several seats? Why I always get asked to make space when my bag weighs about 60 pounds? Why does anyone under the age of 60 in excellent physical health ever sit in those front seats reserved for seniors and people with physical disabilities? HUH? How about this: why do some people sit way closer to you than they have to? Why doesn't anyone ever move back as far as they can when the bus is packed? Are people actually afraid of the back of the bus like Rosa Parks was?
   
5. Do some research on Thomas Heywood's theories about comedy or read All's Well that Ends Well and tell me how it unsettles the notion of comedic resolution.
6. Sing me a song. Not everything has to be difficult. I could use some entertainment every now and then. Be prepared though, I will almost definitely end up telling you that I hope you die. You can hope we both die. I won't mind.
7. Tell me why I'm supposed to feel bad about eating ice cream. Think on it for a while because you will have to be damn convincing. I don't want to hear any of this "but it's cold outside" bullshit. Real reasons. Tell me how fat I am. Tell me it's killing my insides. Tell me it's too expensive. Tell me something I don't know.
8. Figure out what the ties between identity and place are. Can you change your identity just because you change the place you've been sitting for the last twenty minutes? Because you move from the place you lived for the last 20 years? Can you transform yourself like Saleem did during the Bangladesh war? I think I'm going to switch between first and third person for a while. Talk about myself like she is someone I don't know all that well. Retarded.
9. Go to Antigua. Take a copy of A Small Place on your trip and tell me how the locals reacted when you offered to fix up their library. That is all I want to do after rereading that book--build them a nice new library, or fix up their old one. Fucking earthquakes are even worse than imperialists.
   
10. Try to get your few remaining friends to give up on trying to save you. Start with me. I'm sick of the lot of you.
11. Don't be one of the dumb few that forgives me. (Can you tell I'm listening to that song right now? I hope you lie and tell everyone I was a good wife...)
12. Get a job and start sending me money in the mail. I think if I think about it for long enough you will probably do it for me. It worked for Jeff, he didn't do a single thing and Georgian sent him 1500 bucks in the mail. Now he can do even less.
13. Come up with a scientifically valid argument that proves the number thirteen is actually unlucky. Or lucky. I don't want you to prove that superstition is stupid. I want you to prove it makes sense. That should take a while.
14. Figure out how to excuse the worst thing you've ever done and the worst thing that you ever saw someone doing. Prepare a speech about it. Prove you are a better person for doing that terrible thing.
15. Argue with someone for over a half an hour about which shade of blue the sky is today. If it's cloudy, argue about which shade of blue you think it is beneath (above?) the clouds. Obviously, I will need a typed account of this for my records.
    
16. Hang out with someone and do nothing but look into their eyes. Don't stop until you're in love.
17. Go to the World's Biggest Bookstore and make a list of at least 20 books I would love to have. Buy them for me.
18. Determine the cure for insanity. Go insane and test it for me.
19. Paint your nails the darkest shade of red you can find. Work hard to find out what people say about it without saying a word. Stick your hand in front of the faces of cashiers, doctors, dentists...do something interesting that would make me proud to know you. This plan is that much better if you never wear nail polish.
    
20. Join the Polar Bear Club. Then you can be depressed that the ice caps are melting. Awww, poor little guy. No more hypothermia for you freaks. Polar bears are actually crazy for the extent that they need to stay cool. I did a project on it once in grade 10 (and incidentally cried through the presentation) and found out that even in the freaking tundra they roll around in the snow because they are ridiculously hot. People in the Polar Bear Club aren't really like that though...they just turn blue.
21. Find Shane's keys. Seriously I don't know where they went.
22. Convince your best friend and your worst enemy to do at least 5 things on this list. Take pictures. Use them for blackmail purposes, or just for kicks. I will need at least one copy.
    
23. Try sleeping upside down on your bed (head where your feet usually go) but don't change the sheets to make it work, wrap them around you still tucked in. You will get more sleep I guarantee it. More sleep equals less time awake equals less time to be bored.
24. Record your dreams in the smallest notebook you can find (use one book per dream) and then in the biggest notebook you can find, writing with the biggest pen or pencil you can find, turn your dreams into novels. Read them for me and tell me what I need to know to have you committed.
25. Drink some... I don't care what you drink. I suggest avoiding rye though. Tummy killer. Death. I mean it just avoid that stuff.
26. Contact Ryan Brady. He is just fun. You don't have to do it for me. Do it for you. He will make you laugh.

Good luck, weiners and weinists. Make me proud and let me get this crap taken care of. Clearly I don't need to take much time thinking of ways to keep you occupied--just the hour I was supposed to spend researching for 2 of my 4 essays. Brilliant. Have a good weekend.

The Sountrack of My Life

After a few drinks, you become sure that some sinister composer has written half a dozen songs that represent each episode of your life--and you're not even being compensated for it. I'd like to take it one step further: these are all the songs that make up the soundrack of my life:

1. "Anthem for the Already Defeated": for the nights my friends can't make it to where I am (so long as I am in London and they are too cheap to take the train). Don't worry though, Rory. This way we dont have to worry about locking our eyes forever, because that would mean we are in love. I'll just shake my rump alone.
2. "Stay with You". This is the song they will play at our reception when Shane and I are reintroduced as the McGinnes (pluralize that how you will)-- "I'll stay with you. The walls will fall before we do." Now we just need to find some reception walls that look cheap; if they fall at the reception there's no pressure on our marriage from there on out. Sounds like something that would happen to us--freak hurricane blows off Lake Ontario and destroys a single wedding hall. Perfect.
3. "Lips of an Angel," by Hinder. Not because I like it. Not because it has any bearing on me life. Because I hear it everywhere I go. Everywhere.
4. "Chicago" from the "Little Miss Sunshine" movie. I would totally drive to Chicago for the sake of a new love. And if you see me crying, in the van, with my friends, it is almost always for freedom. Plus I freaking love that movie.
5. "Cold Hard Bitch." There is no stretch here. I'm sure you can make the connection on your own.
6. Sarah Silverman's song from "Jesus is Magic". One of them anyway. I read an article the other day that said she was only funny because she was a chick that acted like a man (wow, Times, way to perpetuate stereotypes--good work) and I thought (loudly and to everyone in the GM waiting room), "No way, she is hilarious because she inspired me to create a painting for Rory that reminded him not to fuck children because it is against the law." And screw Times...the reason that women aren't funny to young men is because young men are stupid. Women are more subtle. Men have no sense of humour. I, for the record, am goddamn hilarious.
7. Which brings me to my next point. "Absence of God" another of Rory's favourites that was clearly written with me in mind. Because I'm not happy but I'm funny. Line of my life. Or so I am told.
8. Any song by the Spice Girls but particularly "Spice up Your Life" or "Wannabe" because those songs are on Shane's ipod and I don't think I will ever escape them. Ever.
9. "Unwell." Shane has music on the brain. I called him to tell him that we won a free trip to Florida and a cruise through the Bahamas for the low low price of $798 and whatever is left of our sanity and he said, "Don't worry, honey. You're not crazy you're just a little unwell." To which I muttered, "Too bad right now you can't tell." We're the coolest.
10. "No Children." It's just kind of what I hope for in my life. I really do hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow and I hope it will bleed all day long (the last time I hoped that I sliced a big chunk out of my armpit and spent the day, not checking to see if it was still bleeding, but terrified that Ford dirt would infest it and I would have to have my whole arm amputated.) More than that, I hope you die.