listening: polly, nirvana
Bonsoir, mes amis.
School starts...er, resumes tomorrow, and in preparation i have gotten myself 2 things.
1. incredibly sick
2. new glasses
Since this blog is basically a blog on command courtesy of Corporal S. Lemke of the Confed. Army, I will keep it quick and to the point with minimal farting about.
I repeat, minimal farting about.
Once more for good...never mind.
This semester i have Bio 20, Physics 20, and English 20-1. Foster, Doak, and Griffin, respectively.
Spare 2nd.
Thats it, I got no more for y`alls. But being that school starts tomorrow, hopefully I will have witty and topical posts to come.
-Brett
oooooooh boy.
listening: inner city pressure: flight of the conchords
I defs meant to post this when it happened, i. e. tuesday, but I was distracted namely by Danny, work, and A. Jan and U. Dale who came for a visit.
It was the last day of school, and (with Dad`s permission) I skived off Social for an afternoon extravaganza with Colin and Liam.
It started with a trip to the Keg, which, to our dismay, was closed. Even if we were just going to score some free bread, it was a crushing disappointment that affected the rest of the day.
So we decided to head to Dalhousie to check out Earls. There was a surprising lack of free bread there, but it might have had something to do with the fact that we were seated at the bar. We each had a coke (and a free refill for me) and left. By the way Mom, since I drove, I didn`t have to pay.
Slightly disheartened, we decided to go to a place where we knew we could get free stuff: Julio`s Barrio.
In Kensington.
After illegally parking in the Safeway lot because Colin had spent the only change (that we could have spent on a parking meter) at Earls, we walked through the blistering cold to the faux-Mexican restaurante y bar.
Sure enough, after ordering water, water, and a Coke for Colin, we got free chips and salsa! Unfortunately for Colin, he had ordered nachos under the impression that they were the free chips.
25 dollars and a huge platter of nachos later, Colin and Liam were dropped off and I went home to meet Danny.
-Brett
the world won`t turn until something breaks
listening: ben folds, bruised
So. We meet again, Blogger.
Going back to school has already been a whirlwind of activity. It has been tests, review, more tests, a quick break for a celiac blood test, and...review. Who`d have thought it?
Yeah, the blood test. Being that Mom was diagnosed with it a little over 2 or 3 weeks ago, all her immediate family members (i. e. children) must be tested or be taken out by Bruce Willis in a helicopter gunship. Yes, that is how Health Canada works.
And we`re off topic again. Back to the blood test. My appointment was at 12, so being a good pragmatic kind of guy, I dutifully left math ten minutes early in order to make it to Ranchlands to the BUSIEST LAB EVER.
Of course, my flawed logic made it appear that the BUSIEST LAB EVER would be running ahead of schedule to accommodate the sweating hordes of the elderly. At 12:35, a full seven minutes after the start of Chem, I began to see why the hordes were sweating. I was informed by the kindly gentleman next to me that his appointment was at 11:25, and he was still waiting. With a nervous gulp, I settled in with some music and my Kindle app to wait it out. Finally, a full hour after my appointment time, I was escorted (rushed) into a room and was instructed to roll up my sleeve before I had set foot in the doorway. After shimmying out of my plaid shirt and rolling up the sleeve of my waffle knit undershirt, I was surprised to feel the tourniquet already being tied around my arm. I began to wonder, how on earth can they be this speedy and still be running an hour behind? Approximately 3.2 seconds later, 4 vials had been extracted from my arm and I was escorted out of the building.
Without my Alberta Health Care Card.
Needless to say, this is why they are running so far behind. The nice Chinese woman behind the counter who had taken my card insisted that I hadn`t been inside there before, and that I must talk to the lady who had stabbed my arm Aragorn-style. Three minutes later, I was in my car trying to navigate the clueless hordes in the parking lot. Now, I am fairly confident that there are 3 types of drivers. Good, bad, and downright stupid. After several near misses, including an Oriental woman barreling into the parking lot at 3 and a half times the speed of sound heading right for my drivers` side door, I was out and back on my way to school. Note the time: 1:20.
-brett
Taken...er, Borrowed from my dad
OMD!
Being sleep deprived is not a lot of fun, but there is an added edge when the cause of the sleep deprivation is a very small terrier with a very high opinion of himself, and a disdain for others' needs and desires, which include the desire to raise this puppy in the way he should go....
I was awakened at 12:30 a.m. by the wind. More accurately, by the wind chimes in the garden, flailing about in the southern Alberta gale in an effort to wake the dead. Mozart (aforementioned terrier) awoke as well, and began shouting "I NEED TO PEE I NEED TO PEE I NEED TO PEE!" in doglish.
With some justifiable martyrdom, I betook myself to free him and his bladder - which he legitimately had to address, given the intensity and length of time spent hunched on the lawn. Killing two birds, I removed the wind chimes and lay them flat somewhere.
"Mozart, come!"
(Mozart gives me the "no habla ingles" look, being half-chihuahua)
"MO-zart! COME!"
"No habla ingles, senor!"
"I'll "no habla" you, schweinhund (his other half is Miniature Schnauzer) - come HERE!!!" I advance, plaid pyjama pants billowing menacingly, towards the pup.
Pup abandons all pretense of being Spanish and crouches down low, shucking and jiving - "No massa, please don't hurt me massa - I'll be a good doggie massa, and so forth" - all the while of course not moving a single inch in the direction I want him to come. I finally pick him up and introduce him somewhat forcefully into his kennel.
12:45 a.m. - "INEEDTOPEEINEEDTOPEEINEEDTOPEEINEEDTOPEEEEE!"
"You just peed, you stupid dog! (mumblegrumblemumblemumble). Silence.
CRASH! The wind pulls the blinds off the bedroom window. Dog seizes the opportunity and recommences his emergency bathroom barking. Reason befogged by lack of sleep, I conclude that perhaps he was distracted while I was emasculating the wind chimes, and 'forgot' to do the rest of his business. So, out he goes again, trotting out onto the lawn, looking over his shoulder at me, and flopping down under the trampoline, sitting like the Sphinx of Egypt, and gazing pensively at the neighbor's fence - bladder and bowel apparently completely comfortable.
"GO PEE, Mozart!"
No response. "GO PEEE!"
Nothing.
Back out into the yard, I hunch precariously under the trampoline, to reach the scruff of his neck. He gives me the menacing devil-dog gargoyle smile, which only ensures that his return to the kennel is enthusiastic and forceful.
1:15 am. CRASH! The wind uproots the steel pasta colander and related giant dutch oven from the drying rack in the kitchen, hurling them to the floor. Dog cunningly exploits the resultant silence by advising me in no uncertain terms that he really, really wants to go pee now.
No dice Charley. Fool me once (well, actually twice).....etc., etc.
1:30 a.m. Heartfelt groans from the general direction of the kennel. (Woe is me, for my bladder is weary and downtrodden, etc. etc.).
1:43 a.m. Prolonged groaning and gnashing of teeth, punctuated by futile clawing at the kennel door.
"MOZART! SHUT UP!"
Wife now awakens, questioning why I am cursing quietly in the night. My tale of martyrdom apparently sooths and relaxes, as she is asleep before I am done.
Mozart, of course, being a highly intelligent sociopath/terrier, remembers this adventure in great detail, and decides to implement the same tactics for the next two nights. I abuse myself with Red Bull to stay awake at work, and determine to outlast him. Last night I slept the night through again. But always the fear lingers in the background, knowing that while I sleep, he plots and schemes for the next opportunity to free himself from the injustice of the kennel's incarceration - to be wild, free and gamboling through the lawn in the dead of the Canadian night.
There are days I wish I had a stupid dog....