It’s Friday night and I’m sitting in my bed surrounded by a bowl of popcorn, some lollipops, and mint Girl Guide cookies. Tonight, I was invited to a kegger and a Captain Morgan party, and there are currently people drinking downstairs. I chose to sit here in my bed and catch up on some work, because I’m entering a new Candice-era where I appreciate full nights of sleep and being asexual. Non-sexual? Whatever. I’m going to be picking popcorn kernels out of my orifices for months.

(Note: I’m going to a party tomorrow night, and I have plans lined up for the next two years, so I’ll be significantly more awesome once I’m on top of things. Also, I spent the night shopping and at the gym, which were both total wastes of time given the fact I didn’t buy ANYTHING [besides a necklace and earrings for myself…] and am now gorging on junkfood.)

Anyway. I had to share this story with you.

So I’m walking to work this morning, and I’m passing through George Street. There’s a man leaning into the dumpster beside The Yellow Belly Brewery. I note that he doesn’t necessarily seem like a bum, because he’s dressed more like a skeet (i.e. windsuit).

I’m walking along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden a MUFFIN skids past my feet and explodes. I look up, and the man is just standing there, cigarette dangling from the very edge of his lips in particular skeet fashion, looking back at me. I’m so genuinely intrigued that I do not even become startled or angered. No words are spoken. I understand this skeet. This skeet understands me. This skeet and I are one.

But did he mean to throw that muffin? If he were digging for food, why would he waste a perfectly good muffin? Did the muffin offend him somehow? Was the muffin a reminder of his skeet existence?

Damn, I had a really great five second video of the runners passing through Water Street with the olympic torch today. I had no intention of watching the parade, I just happened to be there. It was easy to get caught up in the excitement though; it made me want to head to Vancouver in 2010. Some guy passing by handed me two flags and I just kinda waved them lamely there on the side of the road. Go Canada. Woot.

**I just Googled the definition for “skeet” because I wasn’t sure if it were a Newfie word…turns out it means something entirely different than what I’m implying. Think Newfie hillbilly.