And they called him shit head

I'm pretty sure - positive actually - that I resolved not to swear anymore. However in this rare instance, in order to appreciate one hilarious moment, I need to.
Out for a stroll the other day(one of the very last to my car in the secret parking lot by the university and the river) I came across a multitude of joggers and cyclists and old people out enjoying the sunshine. One thing I will say about Saskatchewan is that everyone appreciates the sunshine - in particular in April when we're still groggy and fat from hibernation.
Anyway - amid the onslaught of merry passers-by is a middle aged woman with her big black dog. She is dressed appropriately (if not stylishly) in some reasonable jogging attire and in the midst of the zoo of people and the smell of spring wind and the bright sun I nearly missed it. But there he was, her muzzled dog, with a bag of his own shit stuck to the side of his head. I nearly wish I was joking for the sake of this poor creature, but alas, for real this dog was running by the river with a baggy of poo attached to his muzzle! Can you believe it? That guy must really get harassed by the other manly dogs by the river. I mean the muzzle is one thing, but a bag of fecal matter on your face? Come on!

Speaking of the unbelievable - I'm officially done, finito, vertig, finis my university career today. Hmm. I'm not even sure what to say. I had a pitcher of delicious beer on the Yard patio before my final today and realized how good it is to be alive and be a student. I think I won't be a student by the time I wake up tomorrow, so I better enjoy these last few moments at 1 in the morning before I mutate sometime during my sleep tonight into an adult with 11g's of debt...oops.

Any good ideas for making a shit load of money? (...no pun intended)

Never put what on a puppy?

Seth and I learned a very important lesson on Tuesday...it was a total shocker to us both, and nearly cost us Sally.
As many (both?) of you who read this know, I am a passionate accessorizor. Narturally I assume that every other creature God created is as zealous for glam as I. Unfortunately, not all are created equally, in fact God made some creatures accessory challenged. For some unlucky beasts, too many accessories could actually lead (like all good things) to death.
Though a tiny German Shepherd neck looks like a perfect and inviting display case for a chic leather bracelet DO NOT BE FOOLED. Bracelets choke puppies! Who knew?
Not to mention what goes on easily, does not necessarily come off easily.
However, thanks to the bravery of a puppy named Sally and the ninja dexterity of a quick thinking brother named Mark, Seth and Aunty Woop learned a valuable lesson about what not to wear - for dogs.

Aunty Woop: Seth, what should we never put on a puppy?
Seth: Bwathlet!
Aunty Woop and Seth: Hooray!

Moral: God made bracelets so girls could look cute - not puppies; he made puppies cute enough as is.

Very Superstitious

So, I'm not a proponent of superstition, but Friday the 13th always sounds crazy enough to

believe in. (I'm sure that's because my life is plagued with irony) Anyway - how about robbery for an unexpected twist? Straight up car break-in. Which ended up not even doing "break-in" justice as they didn't "break" anything, and they also didn't steal anything which is often the point of a break-in. Well, they did take one thing, my homework. But then the thieves left it for me at Moxie's where the kind people who work there called the police, who informed me they'd recovered my bag before I even knew I'd been robbed. That's efficiency. And lazy robbery. Wasteful robbery. Why bother stealing someones homework? Anyway, it seems like a bit of a rip off, but I'm quite relieved, for my own selfish reasons, that the thieves got ripped off when trying to thieve me. Bless them.

Call for Rebellion

At the risk of sounding like the cold hearted biznatch that I really am, I must make the following observation. The moment classes are over and finals start, students give up hygiene, make-up, self respect, fashion sense, and better judgment. But why? why suddenly do all the people I've worked and studied and suffered with for 5 years decide (simultaneously and without warning) to wear their pajamas and old, ripped jeans and loose fitting bunnyhugs with ketchup stains? Why is it abruptly acceptable in the last few weeks of school to abandon your true self and instead mutate into a drunk Alzheimer's victim who got lost leaving the home?
Well, it's not acceptable, it's not okay.
Take off the sweats, comb your hair, have a shower for crying out loud and reclaim your freedom to look good.
Don't let the man take your last shred of dignity - he's already taken everything else; namely, your money, time, youth, energy, and social life. Don't let him take your freedom to look good.

For the sake of everything sacred, please, don't let him take that from you too!

This is a call to rebellion, a call to abandon the things that seem most comfortable but will cause the most humiliation, the most oppression, not to mention the least action. Take off the chains of bad fashion, don the sparkling cloak of dignity and freedom and discover, within you, the person of reasonable fashion that you really are.

4 resolutions, 3 slip ups, 2 roommates, and a partridge in a pair tree.

My best friend in the world returned to our little home yesterday. How lovely. And she brought with her another dear friend, my 6'3" 200lb baby brother (also her boyfriend).
Since the last post, I've resolved to make some changes in my life. And while I love these people dearly, to go from 1-3 people in a tiny little basement suit in the same week that I've resolved to:
1. stop swearing
2. stop speeding
3. stop drinking coffee
4. stop drinking after 1 alcoholic beverage

...well, it's hard. I mean when the house is getting a little cramped and we're bumping into each other and bumping into the wobbly shelf and glasses are breaking and headaches are starting, I just want to jump into my car and speed to the closest coffee establishment and calm down.
And when I discover I can no longer do that I want to swear out loud and drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine. But I can't do that either. It's hard.

This is day 3 with no coffee, and I only swore twice. (I had to let out a string of profanities when I burned my finger on the oven, and also when quoting the hilarious Farva in the "I got you good f*cker" scene.) Other than that, I only had 2 drinks yesterday and caught myself speeding once.

So I think I'll survive. In particular because Kristie is the best friend ever - in fact she's organizing our kitchen as I write this. And my little man! He's lovely too; not only did he fix my ghetto internet cord so it no longer clotheslines my guests, he also bought me Deltron 3030 which we listened to while making supper together yesterday.

There's hope for me and my roommates.

So long as God will grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.

At the risk of unleashing the demons of irony, how bad could it be?

Freedom Time

In light of recent events, namely the remembering of the sacrifice of my supposed saviour, it would seem that my life is in need of significant analysis. How could it be that I slipped back into the swampy marshes that line the higher road without noticing the murky water seeping into my shoes and muddying my clothes? How can it be that I forget in an instant the truth which sets me free, and chose instead to shackle myself to the lies that would keep me chained to sin and frustration?
So here I am. At a loss for good excuses as I've used them all before - as I am no longer a stranger in this cycle from holiness to hopelessness. How do I climb up out of my self-inflicted swampland and reclaim my freedom? How can I think I'm still entitled to it?
And I guess that's what grace is - God loving me hopeless and sorry and bashful as I mess his gleaming white kitchen with my muddy boots.
"you see the depths of my heart and you love me the same..."
(scary thought considering the depths of this particular heart)

James 1: 21- 27
Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you. Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does. If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

So, no big deal. Just have to keep myself from 'being polluted by the world'. Thank James - I'm sure that will be a piece of cake.

Rebel. Or are you satisfied? -Lauryn Hill

my name is Louise, and I have a problem

I can't stop. Despite my aching conscience, my vanquished bank account, and my peanut sized bladder - I cannot stop coffee cup gambling. I love it. I love the anticipation of milky coffee; I love the seduction of winning as my lips caress the rim; I love waiting, wondering; I love when my teeth finally pry the little rim up. But I lose. Every time, I lose. And then the environment loses. My bank account loses. My little heart breaks and I vow never to roll-up-the-rim-to lose ever again. But he gets me every time, my lover Tim, reminding me of all the great mornings we've had together, all the drunken stupors he's revived me from, all the chocolate he's helped me choke down. And so I give into him, smooth operator that he is.

I fought the law...

Turns out I'm not super stealth. The woman I ran into a couple weeks ago - you know - the crazy biznatch that waited until I hit her to honk, apparently she thought it was a hit and run. It was a hit (tap really) and "wait around for the light to change" followed by a "round the corner and wait" followed by a "too late for class to wait any longer" and then a slow drive away. So there was really no hitting and certainly no running! How audacious. It was a tap and meander!

Now I must report to my new friend Constable Bright who has me on file (#07-21161 as it were) and I have to go down to the police station and turn myself in. Hopefully Constable Bright lives up to his name and is a "wow" in a blue suit or has magical powers like his mom, Rainbow.