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.

My Amazing Exploding Mind Trick

It's not that amazing--but it is really, really messy.

Part One: My Lost Textbook
As if paying too much for a book isn't enough of an irritant, I seem to have lost the textbook I was so pointedly against purchasing. Now I have to buy another. Life just isn't fair. And before you tell me to just look a little harder, let me assure you--I have torn this room limb from bloody limb. It's no where to be found. All hope is lost.

Part Two: My Disappearing Cash
In an act inconceivable for the minds of scientists and philosophers alike, my money keeps on disappearing--vanishing into the nothingness of space. Cash, cold and hard, has disappeared from my wallet. Don't get smart. I didn't spend a single cent.

Part Three: My Treasured Purple Bear
For our 6 month anniversary (I know that is a misnomer--shut up already), Shane gave me a Princess Di Beanie Baby and tickets to see the Goo Goo Dolls. The bear is MIA (the concert, for those who care, is over). My mom says that it was in my sister's room. I can't find it. Now I'm being yelled at because it is worth a fortune (although Shane didn't spend a cent on it) and I'm not devoting more than 1/10 of my life's work to finding it. [Sidebar: Why is it that I'm expected to deal with other people's concerns incessantly? Do I look like someone with time to waste? I'm worried about where that thing went too, but would it kill Shane to ask Meg if she's seen it? Really? WOULD HE DIE?]

Part Four: Missing Spares
I had Shane's spare keys in my purse, now they are gone. Maybe not really gone--they could be any number of places, but I don't know where they are. It seems to me I might have put them somewhere very deliberate so that an occasion like this one could be avoided; but I have no clue where that deliberate place could be. Maybe the purple bear stole them, my cash, and decided to take the text too just in case she felt like brushing up on her knowledge of magazine writing if selling herself on Ebay didn't pan out as expected. It's possible.

Part Five: The Part You've Been Waiting For
This is the part where my brain goes splat. Or my mind goes kerboom. Or something. This is my amazing exploding mind trick: like the disappearing cash and missing keys you can't make heads nor tails of it. So stop trying. I know I will. The only thing worse? I swear Shane put as many Spice Girls songs as Goo songs on his ipod--not a word of a lie. And that is the secret to my amazing exploding mind trick--complete and utter tomfoolery and madness.

This Might Mean War!

I deal with people a lot--way more than I would like to really. But sometimes I find myself in these arguments and I just wonder, does this person even hear what we are saying to each other? I want to bust out laughing at the whole situation, but I don't want to give in...

For reasons that are still somewhat mysterious even to myself, I've decided to go home on the train tonight rather than riding back with Amanda in the morning. It's January. Do you know what these two facts mean when they are combined? Today, I got to buy a new ISIC (International Student Identification Card). I know, please tell me the excitement ends there--this is almost too much to take.

Being the diligent young woman that I am, I dutifully printed off a recent photo of myself and got up early to make these arrangements. Here is how my conversation with the Travelcuts destination officer went:

ERIN walks up to the counter where the BITCH is doing something on the computer and talking to a coworker about how a costume party someone is attending as the tin-man.

Erin [polite as always] : Hi, I'd just like to buy a train ticket for the 720 tonight to Aldershot. And I need to renew my ISIC as well. [Puts relevant information and that lovely photo on the counter.]

Bitch: That looks awesome...No don't worry about that. Oh, hi.

Erin [still trying to be nice]: As above.

Bitch: Oh, you need an ISIC?

Erin: Yup.

Bitch: Okay...Oh wait I can't use this.

Erin: Can't use what?

Bitch: This picture. It has to be printed on photo paper.

Erin: Why's that?

Bitch: Because that's the rule.

Erin: Okay, but what difference does it actually make? It's a recent picture. It's better than the one I've been using for the last year. I don't understand the problem.

Bitch: I can't use this one. You need to print it on photo paper.

Erin: Okay, but I can't and I need to buy this ticket. What am I supposed to do?

Bitch: Come back with another picture or let us take one of you.

Erin: There is no way I'm paying you 6 bucks for a picture when I just gave you one that would work fine.

Bitch: If I make an exception for you, then I have to make it for everyone else.

Erin: I don't think anyone will even notice. This place isn't exactly crawling with people who think it would be great to make you put a normal picture of them on their ISIC.

Bitch: Well, I can't do it. Don't you have any regular pictures? A picture of you and your friends or something?

Erin: Do I really look like someone who has friends? I think that you should just take this picture because I can't afford to pay you 6 dollars for one. If I do I can't eat today. Do you understand that? I need the ticket now. I don't have any more time to argue about this.

Bitch: There's nothing I can do. You can either let me take your picture or pay full price for the ticket [Sidebar: I save the money I spent on my ISIC the first time I use it to buy a ticket].

Erin: Well, no I can't do that. Just take the picture I guess. I hope you know this is ridiculous.

Bitch: Okay, you have to fill out the top to parts of this form and I will process that for you.

Twenty minutes later, another girl has come and left with both her ticket and a new ISIC [She didn't argue, but she came after I had started to fill out the form.] ERIN finally leaves with no ticket in hand, just a voucher for a ticket--don't get her started on the system.

Bitch: There you go. There's an extra picture for you to use next year.

Erin: Perfect, if I ever come back to this hellhole for kicks.

Bitch: Have a nice day.

Erin: I hope you die.

The END.

I know that I named myself Erin and the bitch BITCH and by this account it seems like the titles are reversed, but she was a twit at very least and most of those things were said under my breath or with a degree of irony that the bitch didn't quite get.

Tonight Rory wants to show me and Shane something super exciting. If the train makes me late I'm going to Paris. There I will become bilingual so I can get hired at VIA. I will spend the next ten years of my life slowly breaking the company down from the inside, after which I will publish a damning expose about misused funds and the real cost of a passport-size photograph that will gain me international acclaim and hopefully a Pulitzer (the first of seven I think).

Why, Why, Why

Why do camels drink water? Why, oh why, oh why? Because sometimes camels get thirsty just like you do...Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

Some days I love old Anne Murray songs that I used to listen to when I was about 4 or 5. Some days I wish I could remember more than one line, and remember it correctly. But why? Why bother? Because, because, because...

Today I'm tired. There's no good reason for it. I didn't oversleep or not sleep enough. I'm not sick (even though about half the population is--or so it seems). It's just that "Oh, yuck" feeling. It's just the freezing rain and the cloudy skies (and the inability to get to Marble Slab where all of my dreams would come true). Why do they call them the winter blahs? Because "blah" is the word to describe how everyone who can't claim legitimate illness feels. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye...

And now, now that you're near, there's nothing more without you, without you here...Today is an irrevocably goo day. All the same songs, all on repeat. I can't find my headphones so I've decided to never leave my room again. Why are you so green? Because, because, because...

I'm allowed to have a pre-nuptual fling. There are only three conditions:

1. I can't get pregnant.
2. I can't contract an STD.
3. I can't do it with Rory.

What fun does that leave? (Umm, all of the fun of a prenuptual fling, actually. Like Burns and I would do that anyway--HA!) So, I don't know where I'm going to put the sign up list, or how I am going to go about asking for those interested to enroll, but it could still be fun. Did you know that in many native tribes, the princess had sex with every man in the tribe then picked the one she liked best to be her husband? Why did we ever let a tradition like that die? Why oh why oh why? Because we're stupid. Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Seriously, good night.

Good Reasons to Freeze to Death (Revised Edition)

As written by Rory Burns, upon announcement of my engagement. Also, as found in his wallet a month and a half later, but picture it fancier.

Good Reasons to Freeze to Death (Revised Edition)

--You just found out that you will never marry Rory Burns.

---End of List---

What is Wonderful (Because I'm Sarcastic)

Christmas always puts me in this most fucked up of moods: one moment I'm reflective, and grave even; the next I'm thinking that Mike's light tastes exactly (and I do mean exactly) like the vomit I tasted so many times when I drank too many smirnoffs. How fucked is that? This entry looks at what is wonderful (because I'm sarcastic) and what is terrible (because I can't even muster the sarcasm to make these things seem remotely wonderful).

Part One: Tongue in cheek, the heroine tells you what is wonderful in her life.
There are some things that are just about beyond words. They are the things that keep writers writing and painters painting--because the thrill of capturing their essential goodness is so exhilariating it cannot be ignored. Most things are not so hot though, and it is only our sarcastic love of them that makes them even worth mentioning.

1. This fucking french game on which Dennis got me hooked (I was going to say "that Dennis got me hooked on" but lately I have been extra sensitive about prepositions.) It told me at least ten times that I am as stupid as Paris Hilton in a truly sarcastic and berating manner. It hurt my feelings. I can't stop playing it. PS I kicked Dennis's ass because I got over 30 seconds and his best is 26.836.
2. Christmas. Everyone else seemed to get a wad of cash. I got a bunch of things I was going to buy myself but my mom bought me instead. Life is wonderful.
3. Who needs to go to school at Georgian? Jeff's tuition receipt was returned. Fuck, I don't even know what that means, but apparently he will be returning to Barrie as of early January. "To do what?" you ask. "Fuck if I know, " I respond.
4. I broke our engagement present. Clean break at least. The "me" on the porcelein figurine just came off, and so did the "Shane" arm. Precious Moments figurines are cuter anyhow, and I much prefer my mother (and Amanda's) engagement present(s)--BOOZE.
5. Chocolate fucking cake. I love these two minute wonders. I'm eating chocolate cake that I "baked" less than 3 minutes ago. It may cause cancer, but god damn it is delcious.

Part two: In which the heroine tells you that which is not so very hot about her life (in case you were starting to think you should disown her on account of the fact that her life is too wonderful for her to need your guidance.)

1. Everything else. Absolutely everything else.

But at least I have my health, right? And a positive outlook. Clearly.

Holy How Long Has it Been?

December is here and Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat. So how long HAS it been? There's no telling, but I know we have a lot of catching up to do.

The Big Day
I don't like to tell stories in any normal, linear order; too modernist...too progressive. So here goes the backwards way.
I say, "So how is life, Mark?" (I'm at Ford...just try to imagine how desparate for cash I must be)
Mark responds, "Oh it isn't so bad. School isn't that interesting but I like being there...I would ask you the same thing but I already know the answer--sparkle sparkle."
First of all: yes, this is why I love Mark the most of all. Secondly, yes, he is referring to my engagement ring. Holy crow--I'm getting married!

Did You Say you Were at Ford??
I did and I was. So I shall be on Friday. Wish me luck. I need all the help I can get.

Thesis Madness
I explained my thesis to Shane on Friday night and he looked at me like, "Well, yeah..." Four months in the making and that's all I get. More to come. Don't forget, if you can make it I have my thesis presentation in March. I think it might kill me...all those people...all those eyes.

A Game Involving Balls
Rory is a terrible person. He told me to be nice to his girlfriend, then got mad when I didn't hate her. He also introduced me to "A game involving balls". I'm addicted. I'm so screwed for the rest of my life because he can get like a million bigillion points and I am always poo. It totally sucks.

The Paletta
Sorry to say it, but the one place that I really want to have my wedding allows me to have almost no guests. IE I have to invite the family first, and they take up more than 95% of the seats. I yi yi. On to plan number 27. Let me know if you want to see my dress choices. Then you can all beat up Jean for being difficult and disliking the colour. Jerkstore.

You and I got something but it's all and then it's nothing to me YEA...yea.

Gotta Love November

Last Wednesday I stepped off the bus in the best mood I've been in for days, maybe even weeks. I had slept in. I was showered, dressed, and on campus for something besides class.

Then it hit me...
What the fuck guys? When did it turn into November? I don't know what to do with myself now. Even though the sun was shining, all I could think about was the torment yet to come. The excitement of Rory's visit was starting to wear off. I trudged to the UCC with a heavy heart. November? Really?

Fifteen Dollars for Food and Still No Sign of Redemption
Every year I volunteer at the school's Graduate and Professional Schools fair. Usually I meet a few interesting people. Almost without exception, I get a lot of free stuff. The big bonus is the fifteen dollar meal card they hand me for as little as an hour's worth of work. But I still wasn't feeling it. Even after a hefty lunch that I didn't have to pay for, even with my bag loaded with chocolate I didn't buy myself, something wasn't quite right. It was still November.

Whiner!
I know that many of you have the distinct impression that I am just being down to be down--but I truly despise the world in November. Everything is gloomier; nothing is jolly; the sky is dark, and if it's not raining it's snowing. Today it's sunny. Pure fucking spite. I don't know how much longer I can go through with this...