New Year's...

Being the grammar fanatic that I am, I have recently become troubled over the impending holiday. New Year's Eve. Now, I am quite certain that [New Year's Eve] is the correct grammatical usage of the 's....however, the all-encompassing term 'New Year's' doesn't seem to be right. Seeing as it isn't specifying anything, should the blanket term be "New Years" or "New Year's"??
You can see that I have very little else to think about.

The Week Before Christmas

Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings weren’t hung * and the chimneys were bare
And noone expected St Nick to be there
My dad and Theresa all snug in their beds
At 7 at night, all pyjamaed and fed
And the cat on my pillow, and I at the desk
Were still wide awake, no time for a rest
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
It must be the neighbour, who fell off his ladder
Away to the window I flew like a bird,
If the neighbour was hurt, he hadn’t uttered a word
The streetlights, they shone on the rain on the road
Makes one think of oil, or grease on a toad**
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a very small child, just a quaking with fear
Holding tight to their papers, their music, I saw
I knew they must have encountered my ‘Pa
Not asleep, as I thought, but downstairs by the door
Caused the carolers’ jaws to drop to the floor
More rapid than eagles his curses they came
And he whistled and shouted, and called them some names
“Hey you there, the short one, and fat kid, and you!
Hey pansy-boy, singer-girl, Fluffy, and Boo.
Get off of my porch, get out of my hall
Now run away, run away, run away, all…”
The children took off, and my dad went upstairs
I went to my desk, and sat down on the chair
To ponder this Christmas, a different sort
No lights, a small tree, no snow for a fort…
My presents are wrapped, by the closet, with care
In hopes that some spirit might fix all disrepair
So in secret I sit, with a radio tuner
And hope carols might make Christmas come sooner….

Guess what, guys…Christmas is in 7 days. Aren’t you excited?

* They aren’t hung because WE DON’T HAVE ANY
** Haven’t YOU ever seen a greasy toad? You’re missing out.

Oh Bother

So, I'm halfway finished* my finals, and let me tell you, am I relieved. I can now promptly forget everything I ever learned about linguistics, and instead focus on studying for my big bad psych final. This thing is worth 50% of my final grade...talk about pressure.
I have realized that everything my high school teachers told me about university was true.
1. People really aren't that friendly
2. Your grades will drop by 10%
3. Professors "aren't half as understanding as we are."
4. A university student's budget is never as expected.
As proof for these four statements, let the anecdotes begin.

1. People aren't that friendly:
As some of you know, there is a small roundabout** by my house. This roundabout provides a whole lot of problems for people who do not understand the concept of "right of way". For example: if a car is travelling around the roundabout, it is inappropriate for them to stop in the centre and motion for another car to go. This is proper roundabout etiquette.
So, today, as I am coming home from my exam, I proceed around the roundabout at the snail's speed of 30 km an hour. As I make my final wheel turn, an old man carrying an umbrella jumps off the curb 4 feet away from my car. Quickly checking my rearview mirror to prevent a pile-up, I slam on the brakes and honk (this spry old man saw me, made eye contact, and nearly got hit by a slow-moving car). He then proceeded to swear quite loudly (I had the windows rolled up), and make threatening motions with his umbrella. Then it gets interesting.
As I pull slowly out of the roundabout (20 km this time, as I'm a little shaken up) the man BEGINS TO CHASE ME....
He is waving his umbrella and chasing me down the road.
I speed up a little, frightened of the umbrella-wielding capacity of this man...and look in my rearview mirror.
He is standing in the middle of the road, umbrella at his feet, proudly giving me the bird with both hands.
Why are people so grumpy?

2. Your grades will drop by ten percent:
Enough said. My marks have dropped by ten percent.

3. Teachers aren't sympathetic:
So, our end of class assignment in history was due two weeks ago, and it was five questions on a scantron sheet. I knew all the right answers, and got zero on the assignment. The reason? I filled in scantron bubbles 2 through 6 instead of 1 through 5. The prof claimed to be too busy to mark any of them by hand, so my simple mistake ended in a 0% grade for me.
Hm. I think I prefer highschool.

4. A student's budget is never what it seems:
I drove to school today for my exam, and I had to park...for 2 hours. Those two hours cost me $8.00...lunch for 2 days, or coffee for 4 days...or...or...a whole lot of other things.
And then it only took 45 minutes to write my exam.
Stupid parking.
* by halfway finished, I mean that one of my two exams are over.
** note: a circle in the road that replaced four stop signs...ask the government

Pampered Princess

So, it has come to my attention that there are quite a few girls out there that do not know how to pump their own gas. This suprised me, as I have been pumping gas since my first driver's ed lesson. Anyways, I pull into a gas station on Monday night, and to my utter shock, it is a full-serve gas station. Meaning I don't need to get out of my car. So I sit there. The attendant comes by, knocks on my window. Step 1: Roll down your window.
I ask him to fill the tank half full. He says he can't do that, because he can't see my gas meter. Step 2: Gas attendants aren't psychic.
I settle on $20 worth of gas. He can do that.
"Uh, miss, I need you to open the gas tank." Step 3: Open the gas tank
"You have to turn off the car first." Step 4: Turn off the car.
So, the rest of the filling goes off without a hitch...my tank gets half full, and I only have to spend $20. So, I hand him my debit card. He walks away with it. I wait. 5 minutes later, he sticks his head out of the gas cubicle thinger, and motions frantically to me. So, I get out of the car, and walk towards him.
"It's not a credit card...you have to come in here and, you know, type in your password and stuff."
Step 5: A debit card is not a credit card.
Maybe I'll stick to pumping my own gas.

Because We're All Out of Silver Bullets

Today marks the last class of Linguistics with our fabulous professor, Ida. So, in honour of this abnormally insane, certifiable, Finnish-speaking Swede...I shall quote her in all her glory.

"I think you're crazy. What do you think?"(to a random classmate)

"I'm pretty sure that you are a vampire." (to a Transylvanian classmate)

"And you know this how? Oh, because you counted? Well, kill counting, this is not a frigging math class." (after asking which form of a verb is most common...the one that appears in two languages, or the one that appears in one...)

"Wait a second...how do you kill a vampire if you're all out of silver bullets?"

"A question can't be stupid. However, a mean person...that's stupid."(there are no stupid questions)

"Question. What's the past tense of sh**?"(because we all are just dying to know)

"Ha! That answer is wrong! Now who's smart, huh?" (after encouraging the class to volunteer their answers)

The Day I Was Born Times 18

It's my eighteenth birthday! Unfortunately, I do not feel eighteen, partially because I woke up wearing pink Tinkerbell pyjamas. Oh well. My favourite classes are today, and Auntie Ro, Ashley, Natalie, Maam and Bamps are coming over for cake tonight. Wahoo...I love cake.
Well, I'm treating myself to an enormous coffee this morning. So...I'll update later!
Happy Birthday to me....

Being Presented

So, the birthday presents are making their way to my house, and I'm quite excited, because they're keeping my mind off the infinite amounts of studying I have. Aunt Debbie and Uncle Paul sent me 'My Fair Lady' (Audrey Hepburn + prescriptive linguistics?? A+ in my books...thanks guys!) and Grandma and Grandpa Joe sent me a gift certificate for the Christian bookstore in town. Yesss....who DOESN'T need new books?!
So, I'm coming home this weekend, and I'm spectacularly excited, because it's been at least a month and a half. Plus, in two weeks, I'm going home AGAIN for a week and a half...I'm liking this schedule.
Is it totally typical of me to be looking at the clock and thinking that I want to go to bed? I mean, it's 8:30...
On the other hand, I've written two essays in the last two hours.
We'll see. Maybe I'll compromise and watch My Fair Lady...again.

Bumper Cars

I know...I haven't written in quite awhile. Well, I have TWO stories to make up for it.
Last night, I was on the 95, just dozing off while I waited to be transported home. Music was playing, and I was thinking about a paper that I have to write. All of a sudden, I hear tires squeal and CRASH!!! The whole bus shakes, and rocks back and forth. Of course, being half-asleep, I slammed my head off the window behind me.
Some idiot had run a red light, and HIT OUR BUS as it was pulling out of the bus station.
His car spun FIVE times....and he ended up on the road, facing us.
This poor guy gets out of his car, walks over to the front of the car....and picks up his bumper.
Yes sir, his entire bumper. Just picks it up and shakes his head.
The bus driver was muttering in a foreign language, and he motioned for us all to get off the bus.
Twenty minutes later, a replacement bus came.
My very first accident ever.
And I just have a headache.

Today, I had Bible study. So, being that there is a car in the driveway, Dad said that I could drive it to school. No sweat, I'd driven to school at LEAST twice before. Wrote my directions on a sticky note, and stuck it to my steering wheel.
When I got to Greenbank, I knew that I should start looking for my turn-off to Hunt Club. I looked, and looked and looked....and half an hour later, I was cruising down Richmond Road, completely lost.
In case you don't know, Richmond Road is in the WRONG DIRECTION.
So, I turn around, come back to the house, and START AGAIN.
Still....no Hunt Club.
So finally, I decide that I should pray....because God is sort of the Creator of the Universe, and I bet He knows where Hunt Club is.
So, I return to Greenbank, and look even closer. Then, my turn signal goes on. Telling me to turn left. So I do....and GUESS WHAT?? I was on Hunt Club.
There had been construction, so they had taken down the signs.
Tell me...if I hadn't prayed, HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO FIND IT.
That is what signs are for. To tell you where to go.
I was an hour late for Bible study.
And then I had to pay $6 for parking.
Next week, I'm taking the bus.

Midterm Madness

So, the mania that is called midterm has fallen, and I'm up to my eyeballs in things to do. Luckily, things are going fairly well, and the only thing that I really have to worry about is my linguistics midterm on Wednesday.
Found out when I'll be coming home for Christmas...December 1st! But then, I have to go back for a week in the middle of December, and will be back AGAIN on the 21st. Things work out strangely, but it will be good to be home.
Missing everyone...can't wait to see you all!

Unshakable Shakes

Unfortunately, I can't think of a funny story to tell. Nothing funny has happened to me, which is quite odd. There's this thing called seasonal something disorder, that makes you really depressed during the fall and winter months. Well, I must have it. I'm not depressed, per se, just very slow and draggy. Maybe it's because I hate the winter, and I can just tell that it's on it way. I mean, it snowed this morning for goodness sake. I think that it should be sunny all year round. Maybe I'll move somewhere warm. Or at least somewhere decent...where the snow forecast isn't a million metres a year.
Am presently very very busy. And I don't want to be. Wouldn't it be nice to just curl up in bed with a good movie and a bowl of popcorn.
Maybe not popcorn. I'm not too keen on kernels in the bed.

Dismal Autumn

I've decided that, as much as I love the fall, I HATE the fall. I am currently freezing cold, and achy, and shivery, and feeling not very nice, all because of cold and rainy fall weather. This isn't very fair. Plus, it's not cold enough to wear a winter jacket, but TOO cold to wear just a spring jacket, so I'm in a constant state of disarray.
Plus, a very bizarre mood settled over the house this afternoon. Nobody is smiling, and I think they're all in bed or something. It's 6:30, for the record.
I think lethargic is an appropriate sentiment.

Express-ions

So, I got home from an awesome weekend ready to tackle a new week. However, when I woke up on Tuesday morning, I had a cold, courtesy of my little sister. Thanks Emmy, hope YOU'RE feeling better :). Anyhow, classes are still wonderful, I have a 100% in one class and an 82% in another (yes, I know we've only done one assignment, but still!) Campus for Christ is going all right....haven't been in two weeks, but it's really hard living off campus and staying all day long for an hour long meeting. Midterms coming up soon....luckily I only have two.
Funny story of the day here...and of course, it involves a bus:
I was feeling pretty lousy this afternoon, so right after my psych lecture I bolted for the OTrain station. Decided that the best thing for me was to get home to bed. The OTrain was fine, and as I was standing at the Bayview stop, I saw a bus that said "Fallowfield Express". Well, knowing that Express buses have magical powers that will get me home super fast, I jumped on, and paid the extra dollar. I know...that dollar could have been a coffee. That's how bad I wanted to get home. So, I get on this bus, get a seat, and sit back with my MP3 player.
An hour later, I'm still on the bus. I look out the window, and we're on Merivale. How does that take an hour? I don't know. And then, I look again, and realize that there was an accident, so we've been stopped. Had I taken my normal bus, I would have completely bypassed Merivale...hmmm.
I figure I'll wait, because hey, if this bus will take me right to my doorstep, who am I to complain if it takes awhile.
Half hour later, and I'm still on the stupid bus. Now I'm staring out the window, desperate for any sign of Barrhaven that says I can get out and walk home. Ah! There's Strandherd! A five minute walk from my house (okay, maybe fifteen...or twenty...). I grab the little string that dings the bell and...it falls off the window. That's right. Comes off right in my hand. No ding, either.
By now, we're so far past Strandherd that there's no point.
I stay on the bus. Another half hour later, and I get to Fallowfield Station.
Then I catch another bus.
At 7:00 I get home.
Funny how an express bus can take the most roundabout way home, and deliver me on my doorstep an HOUR LATER than the regular bus?
Which is, by the way, not an extra dollar.
So I get no coffee tomorrow.
Stupid.

My Ears Deceive Me

I heard the greatest thing in the world today. Actually, make that two things.
1. I was checking out e-cards to send to friends, and one Hallowe'en card began to play The Shaggs' "It's Hallowe'en". Now, if you haven't heard that song, you are missing out. I don't want to tell you what it sounds like, but picture three drunk girls with speech impediments singing with a Japanese accent while haphazardly strumming/beating their instruments. I love it.
2. As I was walking through the mall, I heard a cashier say to a customer, "You be careful now. Some new scientific study says that turkey makes you sleepy. At least, that's what Montel said."
I am not lying. I promise you I heard it.
I love people.

I Don't Want to Argue...

So, Monday morning, I have to catch the bus at 10:00. Not a big deal...it's not early, I don't have to rush. Unfortunately, I slept through my alarm, and woke up at 9:30. That gave me fifteen minutes until I had to LEAVE the house to catch the bus. Not good. So I rushed. Surprisingly, I was out the door, bus pass in hand, by 9:43. Man, I'm good.
The bus driver stops, and I flash my pass in true FBI-Agent style. The bus driver smiles and says "I'm sorry, but that's a September pass." Yep, I know. I bought it. Then I realize. It's October 2nd. So I politely tell the driver that I haven't had a chance to buy a new one. "Tough luck," he says, and indicates that I should pay. Now, having paid 60$ for this one-month pass, I wasn't willing to pay another $3 just to get to school. So I argued. "Yesterday was Sunday, the first of October. Nothing was open. When was I supposed to get a new bus pass?"
"Any day before Sunday," he said.
"I'm a student, sir. I procrastinate. It's in my nature."
Having sufficiently held up the bus, the driver finally waved me in, scowling.
I made it to school right on time.

Say It Again, Sam!

As much as I hate double posting things, I'm going to post my latest Xanga entry here as well, to keep you all in the loop.

I have learned to document what people say, in the phonectical spelling of EXACTLY HOW IT'S SAID. And I've learned something very valuable. Most people, though they say a lot, have NOTHING TO SAY. Fascinating, isn't it?

I've found someone to rival the good ol' folks at St. Joe's in the 'stating the obvious' department. Better than Law, History, and English/Writer's Craft combined. I kid you not. Some random chick in my Western Civ lecture has absolutely pointless points regardless of the topic. I love it.

Quotes:
(after comparing Sparta and Athens for a half hour) "Is it safe to say that Athens and Sparta were different?"
(after discussing the democracy of Athens) "So, was voting allowed, or not?"
(on the meaning of democracy) "It's like a dictatorship, only people can speak and stuff."
(on Pompeii being buried by volcanic ash) "You know, that's just like Atlanta. Do you think people really could survive in a hidden city under the sea?" (yes, Atlanta. Not Atlantis. Atlanta.)
(on Greek tragedy) "So, is this supposed to be sad? Or is it, like, sarcasm?"
(on building the pyramids) "I bet that took like, five years. And they would have to work at least five days a week. No weekends off. That sucks."
(on the meaning behind Lysistrata, a feminist play on women's rights) "I bet the women were just trying to get attention."
And that is all for now, folks. But there have been three weeks of classes. I will keep you posted. And, wherever you are, whoever you are, remember: you can't be as dumb as all that.

A Man Walked Into A Bar...Ouch!

So, I walked into a parking meter today.
Twice.
Just strolling along, minding my own business, when WHAM. It socked me right in the gut. Luckily, I had a binder in my arms, so my friend Ashley and I just laughed it off.
Not so the second time.
I was speed-walking to try and catch the OTrain. Not paying too much attention, as RENT was playing on my MP3 player. And all of a sudden, the wind was knocked out of me. I stumbled, my books went flying, and I fell on the ground. Everyone around me had a chuckle at the dorky clumsy girl. Unfortunately, that just made me even angrier.
So I kicked the parking meter.
And now my toe hurts as well as my stomach.
My ego's not doing too well either.

Barking Mad

Last night, after struggling to get to sleep, I was woken by earth-shattering DOG BARKS. At first I was sure that I was dreaming, because nobody in their right mind would allow a dog to bark at 3 in the morning. Hah. Yeah right.
This continued for fifteen minutes straight until I got up, closed my window and lay back down. Then, for some strange reason, the barking got louder and louder and louder, until my entire body was consumed by the most annoying RRRRRRRRRRRRUFFFFFFF! RUUUUUUUUUUFFF! RAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWR! It was part dinosaur, part dog, I promise. Then it stopped abruptly. I heard someone say "Good Lord, will someone just shoot that damn dog!" The goings on of my neighbourhood astound me.

Meatball Mania

Nothing I write ever ends up being posted. That's another entry this week that's somehow been misplaced. And now I have to attempt to harness the power of wit in a captivating blog entry.
My very first university essay is due on Tuesday. This is all wonderful, except for the fact that it's worth 15% of my final grade. See, I don't do too well when I don't know what the teacher is expecting. Normally I would write an opinion piece so laden with subjective points that my teachers would die laughing. Unfortunately, this is not the kind of behaviour that goes over well with university professors. Hmmmm.
Did some cooking today. We made 8 dozen meatballs, 6 dozen cookies, 2 dozen muffins and two large lasagnas. Wonderful. Had a little escapade with the 8 pounds of ground beef, however.
It all began with a grease puddle. Anyone who's cooked ground beef knows that it oozes fat juice when it cooks. My cousin Natalie decides that this should be scooped out. Makes sense. But the stupid meat kept getting in the way, so she couldn't get all the juice out. I decided to help her. I pick up the enormous meat pot, and tip it to the side. It's working wonderfully. I was even being careful to not let any meat fall out.
Then it SNUCK AROUND THE BACK! That's right, I was holding the spoon against the edge of the pot, draining the juice, when EIGHT POUNDS OF HOT HAMBURGER SHAVINGS poured out. I swear, the stuff bounced. On the floor, on the over, under the oven, on the counter, in my socks, in Natalie's shirt and ON THE MICROWAVE (which is rather far away from the stove). Needless to say, we could have made quicte a few more meatballs, if it weren't for the vast amount of cat hair clinging to the ground beef.
Who wants to shave their meatballs before eating them?

Hum-Drum-Monday

As I woke up this morning, I recalled a similar day last year. This day is commonly referred to as Monday, and I decided to do a little comparison. Last year, any given Monday would have me feeling sleepy, lethargic, and in a general state of 'I don't want to go.' This morning, however, I am wide awake, excited, and actually EARLY to head out the door and go to school. Bizarre, I know. Think about that while you're in your high school classrooms, guys.

Rain, Rain....go AWAY!

Longest day in the history of forever. Yesterday, I mean. But, in true blog-addict fashion, I will detail every minute of it.
Class was simple enough, with Linguistics and ASL, but then I had my 3 hour Psych lecture. That, surprisingly, wasn't horrible. The professor was out of town, so he videotaped his lecture, and played it on a huge screen. Movie-tastic.
Here's where the fun part kicks in.
Up until now, I have been adjusting very well, making friends, talking to people, finding my way around. Well, last night there was a meeting for the Christian group on campus, and I decided to go. So, being that the bus ride is 1.5 hours long, I stayed at the school instead. Mistake?? Between the hours of 5:20 and 7:30, there is very little to do around campus. Both Tim Horton's are closed, the bookstore is closed, and the main cafeteria resorts to serving burnt pizza. Not that I would knock it on a decent day. But yesterday was cold, and wet, and RAINY, and my feet were soaked completely through. I WANTED coffee. No deal. Instead, I wound up on the fourth floor of the Journalism building (don't ask me how...I don't know how I got there) watching the news (prayers for the people at Dawson College) and drinking a vending machine tea.
That lasted for 2 hours. Decent. I didn't die. I was just wet.
The meeting went wonderfully, and I hooked up with some girls that are going to save me from my lonely Wednesday afternoon wandering.
It was after the meeting that things got worse.
I know. Worse than what?
Well, imagine this. It's late at night. Your shoes have puddles in them, and you are shivering from head to toe. The campus is pitch-black, and there is no one you know to walk you to the parking lot. Hell, you don't even know where the parking lot is!
I asked for directions. The lady told me. It started to pour, and I was soaked. Then I realize that the lady gave me wrong directions. And I didn't have a cell phone to call Dad. So I kept walking.
Darker, wetter, and increasingly frightened, I began rushing around in frantic circles (you know when a wild animal gets trapped somewhere, and they start flipping out? Yeah). Unfortunately, that just got me wetter, and more lost, and even more frightened. What a wuss.
I was 20 minutes late. That's what happens.
So, I find a pay phone, call Dad, and arrange to meet him in a new place. Five seconds from where I think I am.
I ask another lady. Her Carleton pin says 'ASK ME!'. I figured that was a sign. She gives me directions, and I run. I trip and fall in the mud. Lovely.
20 minutes later, I realize that it was the same lady, and she gave me the SAME WRONG DIRECTIONS.
Just as I'm freaking out because I'm LOST LIKE A LOST PUPPY!!!!!!! (those are for you, Amy) I see lights! LIGHTS! That means PARKING LOT!
At 10:00, I found Dad.
Joy to the world.

Espresso-capades

So, it's halfway through week one of classes, and I'm absolutely loving it. So far I've had History, Language and Social Identity, Sign Language, and Linguistics. My sign prof is deaf, so the entire course is taught through immersion - from the moment I enter that class, I'm not allowed to speak English. I can only use my hands to communicate. It's fun, because it's a beginner level course. Wahoo.
Tomorrow I have a Campus for Christ meeting. That will be interesting, I think- chances are I'll meet some pretty cool people. I'm a little nervous, but hey, we all know I'm not a fan of meeting new people.
Funniest thing happened today. I'm walking through Starbucks, just checking out things, when I remember that I have a Starbucks card in my wallet. So, I stand at the counter, and ask the guy if he can check the balance for me. Sure, he says, and I proceed to root through my wallet, desperately trying to find it. The guy asks me what I want, so I order, figuring that if I can't find the card, I'll debit it and suck up the loss. The guy puts on the milk for the latte, and then leans back over the counter. Then, the wittiest exchange in the world occurred (as he's making my latte):
Him: So, you look awfully familiar.
Me: Really? I haven't been here before.
Him: You don't know me?
Me: I don't think so.
Him: Would you like to?
At this point he hands me my latte.
Me: Uh, not especially.
Him: No? Too bad.
I pull out my debit card. He refuses.
Him: It's on the house.
Me: No, that's fine, really.
Him: Come on, you shot me down, just take the coffee.
So I did. And then I ran away. Fast.

Block Party

We arrived home, exhausted, after a day of birthday partying (my cousin's 14th) only to discover that our street has been barricaded, and there is a large posse of minivans that have taken up residence. Apparently this is the Second Annual Pepperrall Crescent Party, at which everyone and their children consume large amounts of sugar and alcohol, and keep us awake all night long.
The very loud and very obnoxious band has set up their stage in the driveway next door. Think Billy Rae Cyrus + the Barenaked Ladies + a really bad Vegas Elvis impersonator. Then combine those three, add in someone who cannot play the drums, and a backup singer who has a terrible lisp. Add in the fact that my bedroom window is STUCK OPEN, and the fact that I have to wake up early for church tomorrow. Toss in some hyper cats, and a father who HATES people.
Oh gosh. Make it stop. They are BUTCHERING Summer of '69.
Make the sickening covers end.
The flyer states it will end at 10:00. It's 10:05. Dad's giving it another half hour before he calls the cops. No joke.
Plus, the band has named themselves 'The Spicy Hot Chili Peppers'. I'm not joking. There are people out there who are actually that sick.

Busosaurus

So, for some reason, my post from Tuesday wasn't...posted. This hilarious anecdote should be shared with everyone, so I post it again:

This morning was my first adventure at Carleton University. Aptly titled 'Carleton Serves', it involved me and 12 others leaving the school at 7:30 for the Ottawa Food Bank. There, I lugged boxes around all day, and folded 1500 paper bags (with my partners in crime; Alia, Jessica, Tamara, Jill and Emily).
Surprise, that was not the funny part of my day.
No, that came later, after I was dirty and exhausted, and JUST WANTED TO GET HOME.
I got on the bus.

You aren't laughing.

Good.

Going to high school in Barrie, I learned quickly that IF YOU SIT ON A BUS LONG ENOUGH, IT WILL GET YOU WHERE YOU WANT. Don't believe me? Try it. In Barrie, everything runs in a circle. Get on the Downtown bus, and it goes downtown then uptown, downtown then uptown. Not so with Ottawa buses.
I assumed (I know, I know ass-u-me...) that if I took the same route as I take in the morning, only BACKWARDS, it would get me home.
I got on the OTrain. I arrived at Bayview. Step One completed. I jumped on the 95 Orleans, as I do in the mornings. Then it went terribly wrong.
Do you KNOW where Orleans is?
ONE AND A HALF HOURS AWAY (by bus)
Instead of soon arriving at the Fallowfield Station, I arrived in Orleans. I told the bus driver where I was headed, and then he LAUGHED at me and closed the doors.
Then, I saw the 95 Fallowfield.
Hmmmm.....number 95...Fallowfield Station.....by George, she's got it.
2 hours later, I arrived home.
Stupid bus.

Orientastic!

Today was Academic Orientation Day, and man, was it an adventure. Got a free breakfast (the best kind) and was awkwardly self-introduced to large groups of similarly awkward people. Free t-shirts were distributed (Arts &Social Sciences - You can't have smarts without arts!), and we were ushered into the gymnasium to hear none other than the brilliant Steven Lewis (ask who he is, come on, I dare you). This all occured before nine o'clock.
Want to know what else happened before nine?
I was asked out 3 times
I was grabbed/pinched/fondled 4 times
I was asked for the time 8 times
I was assaulted with two croissants
I witnessed three purple boys wearing skimpy underwear run across the Quad.
Oh yes. Carleton: the finest school in the country.
After awhile of being asked the same questions, I developed a routine response. Can you figure out the questions?
A: Alicia. Near Toronto. Barrie. St. Joseph's (for the Barrie-minded). Linguistics. Yes it's obscure. Because they offered me lots of money. No, I live with my dad. Yes it's a long bus ride. Two buses and the OTrain.
So, next time ANYONE on the Carleton campus approaches me, I'm sure the above is what will spill out of my mouth.
Someone handed me a free book and DVD today. I'm hoping that they weren't stolen or something. Although, they were Christian books. Maybe I look like the kind of person who needs Jesus (true, but I've found Him already...)
Til' Tomorrow,

Mail or Female?

Yesterday, a strange man came to the door. Apparently he used to live here, and he had magically forgotten to give us our mail key. All is well in the world, now that we can get mail. However, having lived here for 8 years, this man DID NOT KNOW which mailbox was his. That's right. 8 years. No clue. Poor man. He was a Newfie, too, so Dad said it wasn't his fault. I don't know. I think you'd have to be from a lot farther away than Newfoundland to not know where your mailbox is (Think Saturn...). Anyways. Desperate to get the mail, Dad sent me out on a mission (apparently, I'm the new kid, therefore, I need to be initiated). I went to THREE different mailbox units (The Canada Post units with like, 60 boxes each). I got to try the key in EVERY SINGLE box....with no luck. I think I have carpal tunnel. Anyways, after I got home, defeated, wet and tired, Dad informed me that he called the neighbour, and found out which mailbox was ours. So simple. Why didn't I think of that?

Organized Chaos

Here I am, day one, upstairs bedroom, Pepperrall Crescent, Nepean. Not quite Ottawa, I hear you saying. For all intents and purposes, Ottawa is EXACTLY where I am. I arrived yesterday with twelve boxes, packed full of books, clothes, shoes, purses, and other such valuable paraphernalia. My room is wonderful. The boxes magically unpacked themselves (ha!), and everything is put away in it's proper place. Except for the minute lack of shelving (it's not the closet's fault I have too many clothes), everything is perfect. And, of course, I feel especially grown-up, because I have a room abounding with technology. Plus my own cupboard in the bathroom. Face it, as far as living situations go, this is no dorm room.
Other than unpack, I have done very little. Perhaps tomorrow I will have something more to say about the real reason I am here: university.