Blizzard! At The Apartment

Listening: Grissom's Overture - CSI Soundtrack

Please excuse the horrible pun in the title but I quite simply could not resist. Don't kill me.

So it's been more than a week since my last blog post. What have I been doing? Interesting question! The answer is 'enjoying midterm break'. That's right, MUN's midterm break just ended yesterday and I had a grand ol' time hangin' out with Cole, Matt and the gang over the course of the break.

Friday night there was a party at Matty P's house, where Cole did a lot of cooking and I did a lot of... talking I think. I don't seem to recall doing much else useful. I think the most humorous thing that happened that night was coming to the back door in time to see Stefan slam it open and scream, "Julia! Have a pizza pop!" and then flail at me with a plate full of pizza pops. The other thing that was mildly entertaining was Jimmy driving everyone home in Matty P's car, even though Jimmy doesn't really have his license. Haha. Gold.

Saturday I worked, and I think I went home right after because I was totally destroyed from exhaustion. Sunday night I went out with Matt, Cole, Matty P, Ben, and Kelilah; we went to Matt's to watch The Protector, which proved to be vastly entertaining. That movie does not farking slow down. At all! Also, it's about elephants. No, I'm not kidding. "Where are my elephants!?" Oh Lord. Plus some guy in it threw a baby elephant. Like, picked it up and threw it. I don't know.

After the movie, Benji was all, "Okay dudes, food," so we all went out to hunt down somewhere that was still open at 10:30 at night. It was terribly entertaining, especially when I made the comparison of us being a family (complete with Matty P as the family dog, which was especially hilarious, since he was in the trunk of the car). We all stumbled into Jungle Jim's laughing, and I just looked at them and went, "Guys we are the most disfunctional family ever."

Late-night restaurant food and goodtimes with hilarious friends make for much enjoyment. Anyhow, for although it was a great deal of fun, Sunday night was not the entertaining night. The entertaining night was Monday. For those of you unaware, we had a ridiculously bad storm. I believe the snowfall was somewhere between 30 and 40 centimeters or something, with 100 kph winds. Insane! So this is what happened to me on Monday night.

Matt calls me, and says, "Okay jerks, let's do stuff." I am totally down with this, so Matt plans to pick me and Cole up when he gets off work. By the time he does so, the snowfall outside is becoming blustery. I have packed up a ton of stuff and frolic outside, oblivious to the storm, when Matt pulls up. We go to his parents' house for a visit or something, and they tell us, "You know, be careful, because there's an insane storm coming." We laugh them off, make jokes about how we are tougher than weather, and then scamper back to the car to avoid becoming popsicles. In a moment of brilliant clarity, I tell Matt to stop for food "in the event that we get stuck". Cole waves me off, then decides she wants noodles. Fortunately.

We go back to Matt's, make the noodles, and settle in to watch Unleashed, which was infinitely more enjoyable to watch than The Protector. Over the course of the film, I continue to get phone calls from my parents, who keep telling me that the weather is bad and encouraging me to get home out of it. Unwilling to leave my friends behind, I prevaricate by saying "I'll go home when Cole goes home", knowing full well she won't be departing for another several hours.

So 10:30 rolls around, and eventually I'm like, "Shit, maybe I should be getting home." So I look at Matt and ask him if he can drop me off. "No problem," he says. Until we open the door to his basement apartment. The snow is up to my waist. Before you ask how we got the door open, it opens inward. Moving on.

Matt takes it like the lumberjack he is. "Get out of the cold," he tells me and Colette, and we back off and he starts shoveling us out--from inside the apartment. Once he could get outside into the stairwell, he shut the door behind him and continued shoveling. Cole and I stayed inside and waited until he reappeared, eyebrows and beard frosted with snow, and told us, "Okay, we can go now." So we do, making a beeline for the car because the wind threatens to take us right off our feet.

We get to the car, Matt hops into the driver's seat, warms up for a few seconds, then throws the car into reverse and begins backing out of the driveway. We hit a pile of snow, but this does not deter Matt the Lumberjack. He continues to try to plow over--or through--the snow. "Matt," I say, somewhat nervously. "I don't think we can make this."

"Nah, we're cool," he says with that self-assured male-ness. He gives the SUV another push. We feel the vehicle shudder, then sink--and suddenly, Matt can't go forward anymore. He tries to put the car into drive, but we aren't moving forward, either. We are stuck.

"Oh man," says Colette from the backseat.

Matt reacts with all due lumberjackness. He leaps out of the car in his t-shirt and begins trying to shovel us out like mad. By the time he has to return to borrow Cole's kitty hat (which made her melt a bit at the cuteness) and my gloves, Cole and I had realized the truth, even if Matt hadn't. Cole made the call first, informing her parents that we were stuck at Matt's and didn't look like we were getting out before morning. I made the same call as soon as she'd finished, and my mom was understandably pissed, since she'd been calling me for hours telling me to get home out of it. Whatever. There wasn't much I could do at that point, and eventually she stopped reading me the Riot Act and warned me to be safe.

Matt charges back into the car as I hang up the phone, white all over and shivering. "We're not getting out in this," he says, and Cole and I nod like we only just figured that out too. A few minutes later, Matt leaps back out of the car to continue shoveling, not to dig us out, but to free his car, which is halfway out of the driveway. This goes on for more than half an hour, but no dice--we are stuck fast, and clearly not moving anywhere til morning. Matt grudgingly turns off the SUV, and we all charge for his apartment door.

Unfortunately, Matt locked the door behind us, and in the interim, the lock froze. Both Cole's and my fingers went numb as we struggled in vain to unlock it. I briefly consider the possibility that we might die out here in the stairwell to Matt's basement apartment. Then Matt makes his grizzy-wrestling growl and bumps me out of the way, proceeding to unlock the door and practically break it down in his haste. We charge inside and can only stand there staring at each other, soaking wet and freezing.

I take charge for a few minutes, ordering Matt out of his wet clothes and into a shower. Cole, fortunately, comes to her senses and tells me that hot water after such severe cold would send his body into shock. Thankfully she is smarter than me. Matt strips down to his boxers and a wifebeater and Cole and I wrap him in blankets. Then we mutually decide our jeans are too soaked through to continue to wear, so we shed them and wrap blankets and comforters around our hips sarong-style. We all proceed to play a few wicked rounds of Smash, then Matt pops up and makes us spring rolls and chicken wings. The thing with Matt's kitchen is that the slightest rise in heat sets off his smoke alarm, so he had one of us wave a pillow at it while he opened the oven and fetched our food. Picture, if you will, two teenaged girls dressed in blankets, one (me) waving a pillow at a smoke alarm while the other (Cole) holds the blanket up around the other's hips, while a lumberjack in his underwear fetches snacks. Yeah, we laughed too.

Finally Cole is like, "I'm tired," and Matt graciously gives us the use of his bed. We fight him for a while on the subject, but halfheartedly, because neither of us were too keen on taking the couches. Our pants are still not dry, so Cole and I share a toothbrush (squick, but better than waking up having not brushed our teeth) and crawl into Matt's bed in our panties and shirts. (Just as a side-note, Cole's underwear were bright blue and had a dragonfly on them. They were adorable.) I'm fully prepared to listen to my iPod--I have trouble sleeping otherwise--but then Cole yammers something about Christian rock and I realize that I'll be in trouble if I attempt it.

I didn't sleep very well, partially because of being in an unfamiliar bed, partially because I didn't have my iPod to listen to, partially because the wind was howling outside the bedroom window like a monster scratching to get in. Cole is asleep in seconds; I fade in and out of consciousness all night. The first few times I wake up, it's because of the wind--once or twice after that, it's because Cole is attached to me like an octopus and sapping my body heat. At around 7:30 a.m., I woke to a sound that made me think that the roof was caving in. In actuality, it was the rhinocerous children of the people who live in the house above Matt's apartment, thundering up and down the hallway directly above the bedroom. I briefly contemplated finding a broom and slamming on the ceiling with a handle, screaming "Keep it down up there!" like a disgruntled old lady, then I decided against it and just went back to sleep. At 10:30, Cole and I wake up, and I go hunting for my pants. Unfortunately, I step right over them and wake Matt in the process of the search, only to discover that oh! Both Cole's and my jeans are in front of the door, wrapped in a heating pad so they will stay warm. Cole and I are charmed by this. We get up and play some more Smash; Matt makes a kick-ass breakfast for us. The masses cheer.

Around 12, Matt starts digging us out of the apartment. By like 3:00, we are free (through some very nifty physics maneuvers with a rug in order to get the SUV un-stuck). I get home, get a shower, get un-grunged, and then... I call Cole and ask what we're doing that night. Clearly I cannot get enough of these people.

So that was Monday's adventure. Life has seemed exceptionally boring since then. Probably because few things can measure up to Monday night. Bwahaha.

Icarus wishes mad adventures would happen every day.

Notes on a Movie

Listening: Gravity - Vienna Teng

Hey, love
I am the constant satellite
Of your blazing sun
My love
I obey your law of gravity

This is the fate you've carved on me
Your law of gravity
This is the fate you've carved on me
On me.

This will be a short blog post (as they all seem to be, lately--my life has just become too full of stuff to do to spend much time detailing it) because my head is currently thrumming so full of adventure, excitement, blood and gore, dancing and war, love and vengeance and betrayal and magic and all such things, that dear God I cannot hold it all in. So, I am going to try to write some more of Usurper tonight before I reluctantly succumb to that stupid thing called sleep. Einstein was right. As much as I adore sleeping, it really is a huge bloody waste of time.

Tonight a rather unexpected change in plans. Jam, hyper and nonsensical (read "retarded"), post his 4:30 class today, stumbled around to the UC being all Jamtarded like he is. I was reading at the time, so aside from laughing at him occasionally I didn't register much. Until he started whining, "Aw, this is the last night that Notes on a Scandal is playing. I really wanted to see that!"

"Well," I said, "then go."

"But I can't find anyone to go with meeeee."

"I'll go." Duh. I haven't seen a movie in months and, um. Judy Dench. Notes on a Scandal looked awesome. I was totally up for it. So I called my mom and Jam and I made plans to go to the 6:45 showing of Notes. On the way there, two things happened that made me laugh. One was Jam stopping for a copy of the Muse and my announcing that I was (briefly) pictured in the issue. The chick next to us jumped in with, "Yeah, I knew I recognized you!" Haha, fame. Insofar and inasmuch as people know you from being featured as a retarded fetus-eater.

The other thing that made me laugh was going outside and being bombarded in the face by teensy stinging pellets of hail just as the two of us walked past a larger group of people. "Oh, God, my eyes!" I exclaimed in agony, dramatically clutching my face. The random people all started laughing at me. I was too busy being in pain to bother much because sweet Jesus that hail hurt. Damn winter. (I like winter as much as the next Marchioness, but even I have my limits.)

Anyhow we waited like a million years for my mom to pick us up, and then we got dropped off at the Mall, got the tickets, had some dinner, and flounced off (we flounce, Jam and I) to see Notes. Mother of God am I glad I took the time to see that. It was excellent. Judy Dench: amazing. Everyone raved about her. But honestly I thought Cate Blanchett deserved just as much praise, she was quite phenomenal. The whole thing was very twisty and distorted and fairy-tale-warped, in a way. Civilized but raw. I can't even describe it, just see it for yourselves.

Talk about creepy, though. I read the review in the Muse, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, for my viewing pleasure (or confusion)), the reviewer failed to mention the obsessive-blackmailing-stalker-lesbian aspect of the movie. So, in advance, this is my warning for you. This is a movie about an obsessive blackmailing stalker lesbian. Just so you know.

Speaking of fairy-tale-warped: I want to see Pan's Labyrinth so bad it hurts. Why? Um. A) Satyr. B) Labyrinth. C) AMAZING story. The plan is to go this weekend! My excitement cannot be contained by conventional means. I'm gonna be like vibrating at a super high frequency until then.

Oh man, I just finished the best book I've read since probably Darkfever or Neverwhere. Gen loaned it to me after I read the first chapter prior to the start of an English class and Jesus God I want the next one. It's called Poison Study and it is everything a good fantasy book should be. Gen suggested that we go to Chapters tomorrow morning, which I am totally down with, because I want the next installment. Desperately. Reading it, of course, makes my brain want to be all Holy crap holy crap Usurper dummy go write it right now. Which I should actually give in to because mrr, I'm really starting to miss my sarcastic, endearing main character and her entourage of amusing companions.

Okay, so I lied. This was not a short post. Whatever.

Icarus also has to remember to buy Divine By Mistake.

Thank Jeebus

Listening: How To Be Dead - Snow Patrol

Please keep your hands down
And stop raising your voice
It's hardly what I'd be doing
If you gave me a choice
It's a simple suggestion
Can you give me some time
So just say yes or no
Why can't you shoulder the blame
'Cause both my shoulders are heavy
From the weight of us both
You're a big boy now
So let's not talk about growth
You've not heard a single word I have said
Oh my God.

Thank God.

After spazzing in the UC for over two hours, alternating between sleeping, drawing, blogging, and getting pissed off at Larry (who never farking goes away ever), I got a call from my sister to update me on the status of my dog.

It is good news.

Apparently, at the ripe ol' age of seven, my dog has wandered into "senior" age (which makes sense, I guess, since they're techincally "adults" after one year). According to the vet, reaching this stage (which I understood as kind of a doggy menopause) can cause a pooch's body chemistry to go wonky as hell. In the case of Gracie, it seems to be that her tummy is going all "Hi, I'm deciding not to work for a while. Hope that's cool with y'all." So, apparently this will work itself out in time, and we should be patient. In the meantime, the doc gave us some meds to put the pooch on to restore her appetite.

I love happy endings.

And now I finish what I started several hours ago. Grabbing the first book I laid eyes on when I came home, finding page 123, finding the fifth sentence, and copying out the three sentences following that.

Sadly, despite the short skirt that bared my pretty tanned legs to well above midthigh, a snug, bosom-enhancing top and high heels, compared to the rest of the women at Casa Blanc, I looked fifteen. I thought I'd turned my shoulder-length dark hair into something wild and sexy, but I obviously didn't know the meaning of those words. Nor did I understand a thing about the artful application of makeup.
"Stop fidgeting," Barrons said.

Oh-ho-ho! I will personally give a dollar to anyone who can guess this book. Snap.

Adieu!

Icarus is feeling back to her old self.

Tagalicious

Listening: Are You Having a Good Time - Leroy Williams

Rollercoasters
Holy roller
I got shot down
In Southern California

T-minus 1.5 hours til my doggy's veterinary appointment. T-minus 2 hours 'til Psychology.

To distract myself I'm doing this thing Jam tagged me for. Well two things, techincally. But I'm doing one at a time, starting with the most recent. I don't think I know five people with blogs, so I'm copping out on tagging anyone else. For those just tuning in, what follows are supposed to be five things that you might not know about me.

Here goes.

1. I have very deep-rooted self-esteem issues. I'm not sure how unknown this one is to people. Fact is that I'm constantly getting put down by (skinny) people in my family who don't warrant mention right now, who keep telling me that a) I need to take more pride in myself b) I need to lose weight c) I need to fix my complexion d) I need to change my taste in clothes e) I need to [insert anything here] . If I didn't have friends (ones who, from time to time, do tell me that I'm perfect the way I am), I would probably be so far into a deep blue funk that I'd be in China right now.

2. I used to sleep-strip. True story! More than once, when I was a kid, I would wake up either completely naked, partially naked, or with retarded varieties of clothing on. Once I woke up in the basement wearing nothing but a hat. Another time I woke up wearing two pairs of pajamas and no underwear. Good times.

3. When I was seven, I was a superhero. Hell yes. I had the most kickass alter-ego any of you have ever and will ever see. Shapeshifting? Did I ever. Defy laws of physics and biology, let alone gravity? Every goddamn day. Oh the days of Julia Jaguar, I miss you. How you would read the paper and react with shock and horror at the news you found therein! How you would charge headfirst into battle with the notorious Captain Zoo! Sometimes I still wish you were around to turn into a grizzly and scare off all my problems. Or an ostrich. That one was cool.

4. More than anything else, I look forward to being a mother. This one also seems pretty obvious to me, but then I don't know how many of you know that. Yeah, I adore children. The very thought of having little ones of my own makes my body practically ooze joy. I already have names picked out (my future husband can pick middle names if he's that picky about it, but I call naming rights because I'm going to be giving birth to them); three girl and three boy names apiece. I would love to have dozens of children, but I'm pretty sure unless I marry a millionaire with a live-in nanny, that will change after I have one or two.

5. Sometimes I narrate my life in my head. I regarded the last words I had typed with an inward snort. No one narrated their own life. Except, apparently, for me. Haha. Gold. No, seriously, I sometimes compose lines of prose in my head, as though my life were a novel I was reading or something. I think I started doing it a couple of years after I started writing, but I can't pinpoint it exactly. Whatever. That's sometimes why you'll find me saying weird things. Then again, that's also pretty common.

The end! Five things you may or may not have known about Teh Julia. If you did know them, pretend you didn't so I don't have to disclose anymore. Sshhh.

As for the other tag (which I am also not going to recipro-tag), I am nowhere near a book right now. I'm in the UC at MUN, so this aspect will have to wait until later tonight when I get home. First book I grab. I promise.

Icarus still has a lot of time to kill.

I Never Have the Answers to the Important Questions

Listening: Everglow - Mae

Here's a night, and it shines
And it calls us on and on
So be here by my side, and watch the stars;
They're ours.
Make a wish, or just take charge
The moment comes; get lost, and go far.

I think that we've got what it takes
To get this heart start beating again.
So take it all the way;
Whoa, whoa,
And our hearts are on The Everglow
So just let go,
And fall into it.

I live my life like that song from that musical. You know the one. Wicked, yeah. You know the words. Of course you do. "Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters; it's just life, so keep dancing through. Dancing through life, mindless and careless, make sure you're where less trouble is rife. Woes are fleeting, blows are glancing, when you're dancing through life". Now and again, though, something comes up that makes me remember that I'm not an emotionless robot that can laugh off anything that happens to me.

My puppy is sick. Anyone who has a pet which they are overly fond of will understand how stressed out I am about this. I've been watching for days as she's refused to eat (unless one of the family physically feeds her, by hand) and as she grows gradually more lethargic and mopey. It's gotten to the point where she won't even get up to see when someone comes to the door. All she does is lie on my bed and just... be.

She's going in to the vet tomorrow and I'm absolutely terrified. I know it's too soon to be getting ahead of myself, and I'm probably overreacting, but I'm paranoid that whatever is going on is really serious. I've been scouring articles on canine health lately, hunting down suggestions for her symptoms, and they all entail taking her to the vet immediately. My heart squeezes at the very thought of her having a terminal illness of some kind. I want her to be happy and bouncy and fluffy like she was only last week. I hate this. I hate having to wait til tomorrow to have her seen to. And I hate that I'm absolutely helpless in the meantime.

Mom has been speculating all week that maybe she ate some sort of woodchips or something that we (apparently) had kicking around the floor somewhere, and I hadn't given the idea much merit--my dog stopped eating strange things after she got stung in the mouth by a hornet she tried to swallow when she was a puppy--until tonight. Browsing through message boards, I stumbled across a post where a woman described a golden retriever with the exact symptoms that my mutt has. Apparently, the dog swallowed a rubber Kong toy. Whole.

I'm scared to death that something is very, very wrong with her, and that it will be too late to do anything for her when we bring her to the vet tomorrow night. Both my parents have expressed their concern that maybe something is seriously wrong with her, and their comments have done nothing to alleviate my concern. Obviously. All I can do until 6:00 tomorrow night is let her sleep, I suppose, and keep trying to feed her a little bit of food at a time. And wrestle with my ever-growing internal panic.

I'm too emotionally drained right now to give any further updates on the life of Julia. Y'all will have to wait until tomorrow or possibly Thursday, when I can ascertain whether or not my puppy is okay.

Icarus has no sassy comments today.

I Pwn Your Money

Listening: Elephant - boa

Where are the wisemen?
Where have they all gone to?
Did they follow the spirit children
Down the road that only they know?
And you and I know that the answer lies
Somewhere deep in the City of Skies
We're gonna go there
We're gonna see the daylight
And I, gonna fly away now
And I, gonna see that the path runs high.

Isn't it touching the way the trees hold their leaves
Into the sky?
And when the breeze blows,
All you can see is the green and gold
You and I know that the city holds the street night lights
And we're gonna find it
We're gonna find the gold that illuminates our lives
And I, gonna go so far away
And I, gonna see the stars up high.

I get this sense of impending doom today. A lot of things hover perilously overhead--like that Psych exam this Wednesday, though seeing as I did the course in high school, it really shouldn't worry me--but it's not really school stuff that I'm concerned about. Rather, it's my health.

Last week, my sister got an INSANE cold (so insane that she holed herself up in the basement to heal and I didn't see her for three days), and right in the middle of it, my mom got holy God NORWALK VIRUS. Needless to say, my house was kind of a festering mass of plague and pestilence for a while there, but my sister has completely recovered since and my Mom is functioning again, so we assumed all is hunky dory. Danced around a maypole in celebration, all that jazz.

Today though, I feel bloody awful. I got a good amount of sleep, but still I woke up feeling like a silo fell on me in the night or something. And I cannot get rid of this bloody nausea in my stomach, either. These two things alone would not normally be cause for alarm, but I tried to put my boots on earlier and fell the hell over because I was so dizzy and crazy nauseous. I can't believe how dizzy I am. The thing that really bothers me is the fact that I can't seem to make my eyes focus properly right now. I tried to scribble a line or two of Tooth and Talon (a random short story) and I'll be goddamned if I could even focus on the lines. Just turning my head makes the whole world tilt dangerously on its axis. I don't believe this.

I can only pray that I don't end up insanely ill now. In the meantime, aside from being jumped by like, bird flu or Paraskevi-strain G.U.I.L.T., life is relatively normal. Wal-Mart manager from Hell, Tim, decided to devote all of yesterday to pissing me the hell off, and yes, me personally, but that's kind of to be expected because he is, well, the Wal-Mart manager from Hell. And he is a smart alec! I should have called him on his sarcasm and slapped it in his face like the bastard sea-pig he is. But I digress.

I went to Future Shop today to replace some random electronics, expecting to pay in excess of $20. What happened instead was I got everything I needed, and Future Shop paid me $11. I didn't really understand why, but there was no way I was complaining about it.

Friday night after work I went out to Benji's, had some Chinese food, and tried to get Colette in there. All but one of these succeeded. Then I had to work yesterday for nine hours, which sucked a bit, especially when you add Tim to the equation, but whatevs. After work I went out to Matt's, where he, Cole, and Kevin were battling for control of the multiverses in Smash Bros. We watched Akira after that. I had forgotten how utterly retarded that movie was. Good, but retarded. Geez.

Today was my little cousin Meaghan's seventh birthday, and I went to the family brunch because there was nothing else to do and my Aunt Sadie cooks like holy shit amazing. I spent most of the time wandering around feeling sick and just sitting down listening to the adults rant a lot about cars and talk about the sudden death of my great-Uncle Al, my grandmother's brother, who died of a heart attack over the weekend. (This is unnerving, because this makes the 3 dead siblings of the 5 there were originally having perished due to a heart attack. I'm really hoping it isn't a genetic thing, because I would like to keep my Grandma and my Aunt Judy around for a good few more years yet, thanks.) Now me and my dad are home chilling out, and I'm thinking I should go lie down for a while and see if I feel any better.

First, however, I offer you a little case-in-point story of why I need to get out of the retail business, and bloody fast.

Once upon a time, there was a Marchioness who went to a birthday party for her little cousin. While she was there, an uncle of hers (who also happened to be named Tim, and of no relation to her Manager from Hell, thank God) decided to engage her in the ongoing conversations with a little game.

Holding out his fist, he said, "I will give you what is in my hand if you can guess how much there is", which sparked a grumble from his wife about how the Marchioness was a grown woman and would have no interest in such games, but nonetheless peaking the interest of the slightly-under-the-weather Marchioness. She agreed to the challenge, because she had faced off against Snow Demons and Venetian noblemen of greater threat (but no greater bulk) than this uncle.

Her uncle opened his hand, just long enough to reveal that there was money there and give the Marchioness a glimpse of what was in there, before he closed it again. All that the Marchioness had seen was in the space of about 0.5 seconds. This, however, did not deter her. She sat back, thought for a moment, and then said, "$2.37".

Her uncle thought this guess was hilariously exact and began to laugh. All of them had a good laugh, except the Marchioness, who was just kind of waiting there. Finally, her uncle said, "She works in retail. Hm. Maybe I'd better actually count this." So he did. And a few moments later, he discovered that there was $2.36 in his hand. Which, in accordance to their agreement, he gave to the Marchioness. Then went off to tell how scary she was to anyone who would listen.

Holy shit I need to get out of the retail business, if I can count money in half a second to within a single penny. It weirded me out.

On that note, I am going upstairs to rest because I feel like I might fall out of my chair. Adieu.

Icarus kills bacteria with steam technology.

Blog-O-Rama Time

Listening: Paris Train - Beth Orton

Now you're sittin' on a Paris train
Laughin' at your own jokes again
Sun splits the trees
Into beautiful broken light.

Now I'm sitting on a Paris train
Mountain ash falls like rain
Fire burns the trees
It's a beautiful fatality.

Holy shit it has been a while. Seriously, it has crossed my mind at some point in the past week, "Shit, I should update my blog", but oi, a week is pretty bad for me, considering there are some days where I post twice in a row.

In other news, life has been going about as well as planned. I got assailed by a Linguistics midterm on Monday, and then a random Roman Civ quiz on Wednesday, and now I have to study for a Psych midterm next Wednesday and a Mythology test on Monday. On the bright side of things, everything seems to be going well in that department. I got on A on an English paper I wrote. I now do a dance.

Gen brought me pie in English class yesterday, and I'LL BE DAMNED IF IT WASN'T THE BEST PIE I HAVE EVER EATEN.

Bah. I usually ascertain whether I'm going to have a good or bad day about ten minutes after I get up in the mornings (like yesterday, when I got up and said "I'LL BE GODDAMNED IF TODAY ISN'T GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL DAY" and scared my dog), but I'm not sure how to feel about today. Yes I am going to Chapters to (finally) blow my $50 gift certificate on insane-o fantasy and trashy romance novels (it's a vice), but I have work at 5:30, which means missing at least the majority of Benji's awesome bash tonight, which makes me sadder than you can imagine. However, spooky ethereal voices (e.g. the weatherman) tell me we might be expecting snow tonight, so... I kind of hope that any weather we get deters would-be Wal-Mart goers.

Goddammit last Friday night at Wal-Mart was so boring I thought my brain was going to explode. We had a crazy-ass snowstorm, so while Jam was getting his hate on with that stupid bitch from down the street, I was running around Ghost-Mart freaking out about how not-busy it was and how some people still insisted on braving the peril of the barely-visible streets to come shopping for useless things. Also the power went out at one point, so I was running around then and being a snow zombie.

Random Employee: A what?
The Marchioness: A snow zombie. I come out when the weather is less than savory, and feast on the stupidity of the living who are dumb enough to come out shopping for retarded things when the streets threaten icy death. *begins doing a zombie walk towards some random customers* They will be my first victiiiiimth.
Random Employee: There is something seriously fucking wrong with you.

Also I was learning from another employee that apparently it is possible to be in labour for a week and not know it. True story!

Very few things are quite as satisfying as spending in excess of $300 on various commodities which may or may not be necessary and then finding out that you have money in the bank that you didn't even know was there. My brain is frolicking a little bit right now, I am considering going back and hugging the bank machine.

Those quasi-necessary items include MUN textbooks (very necessary) which I bought several weeks ago, and a haircut (not very necessary, but very worth it) that I got yesterday. My hair is short and dark and coppery-orange in places! I feel like my head will go on to Broadway and leave the rest of me behind or something.

Also, I actually finished a story recently. It's not long, six chapters and an epilogue, about 464 handwritten pages. (My handwriting isn't that big, though.) Words cannot express how accomplished I feel right now. This little piece of work won't be going anywhere or doing anything spectacular, but it's a story that I've had in my head for about two years and I am ecstatic that my muse took the initiative to come out of left goddamn field, smack me in the head with a frying pan, and coldly demand, "I want my happy ending, goddammit". And his happy ending he got, as it would have been unjust to give a story about Romanian orphans an unhappy ending.

My God I have the insanest urge to go traveling right now. Ever get that crazy feeling in your bones, where you're just like "Forget this place!" and want to pack up and trek off for grand adventures? I get that mood a lot, usually brought on by music or movies or drawings and stuff. Stupid Beth Orton makes me want to go to Paris now or something. Gah. The problem is, if I ever did decide to just pack up and get the fuck out of Dodge one day, it would be cool because my crazy uncle has properties all over Europe and the U.S. and has offered me a loan of said properties more than once. So picture, if you will. A very confused, very lost Canadian Marchioness winds up in England, with no idea where to go. No problem! Ring up her uncle and get a loan of his three-acre manor in Oxford. She winds up in France four days later, just as confused and now with a parasol or a small piano. Don't worry! Ring up her uncle and get a loan of his Parisian flat. No extra fee!

Goddammit if I'm not going to go to Europe sometime in my life and take advantage of all those offers and more.

Jam has been whimpering about our English class lately, not because he hates the prof, because she's wicked, but because he dislikes the material. This makes my brain cry a little bit, because I am absolutely in love with this course. I just love what material we're covering, like Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and The Faerie Queen and such. Also, Prof Vecchi is goddamn hilarious. How many profs will dictate what they're writing on a blackboard like it's a war cry ("Cam-e-loooooooooot!") (insert "For the glory of" here) and then lecture one of the characters of the epic you're reading for being both a gentleman and a weenie? ("Aww, he's so naive, it's adorable! He's cute, really. Stunned and all, but--SHE'S GORGEOUS! She is an absolute knockout! And Sir Gawain is just lyin' there all "I don't wanna". Cute. Courteous. Dumb, really. But cute.") So I am making mental notes to myself, since I'm going to be an English major and kicking around this place for quite a while. Linda Vecchi: Happiness and funtimes. Mary Dalton: death on wheels, only without wheels and with a scary batcave filled with bats.

Oh man someone I know just turned up! I have been sitting here for like an hour going "wtf where are all these people I'm supposed to know" and finally one turns up. Yay for Lisa.

I met a dashing young man two days ago, but that will have to wait for a later date.

Icarus is getting called 'Kitten' by more than one person now. Holy crap!