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I don’t have time to paint my fingernails anymore, and somehow I managed to put together this letter. I amaze even myself.

*Shit, I just realized my blog doesn’t support such large images, so you have to click the image itself and zoom in. It’s worth it, I promise.


Frank the tank has been adopted. Can you believe it? Cos I can’t. God bless his little heart and all but that dog is going to be a lot of work. His adoptive parent knows this though.


The weekend generally involved a lot of booze, cupcakes, and dildos with flashing lights and dolphin adornments. Dinner’s graduation party was a success. We followed it with an evening of dancing to some Irish tunes at O’Reilly’s and then attempting to pick up a hooker on the corner.


Saturday I met with the writer ladies to exchange presents and eat breakfast at Cora’s. Boy did I ever want some sausage. All I could think about was sausage, sausage, sausage. Posh was my Secret Santa, much to my delight because she has fantastic style. She gave me a beautiful black t-shirt designed by a local artist, some ladybug earrings, a blue purse, and a magnet which pokes fun at my lack of cooking abilities. Success!


That evening, I attended a friend’s Birthday party with a bunch of the ladies. The highlight of the night was the Fantasia party… nothing like passing around a bunch of vibrators and dildos and musing over the best speed settings and stimulation tactics.


The girls and I had a discussion yesterday about how we date guys with a “theme.” For example, JagerBomb’s theme is preppy overachievers, the sort of men that generally turn into lawyers, doctors or rulers of the universe. Lottie dates assholes, which I followed up with sexy assholes. Boy do I love those sexy assholes. I danced with a guy last night who refused to believe I was a technical writer and then demonstrated that he knows all kinds of “crazy shit” cos he’s an RCMP officer from Alberta. I have no misguided delusions or hope about the future anymore. I’ll just keep dating sexy assholes and maybe eventually I’ll get it right.



I’ve been working all weekend on a training manual about echo sounding and sonar. Yeah, me with an English degree…obviously I’m the choice person to teach a bunch of military men how to use sonar. Maybe then we can discuss Wordsworth and quote Shakespeare.


Best quote of the night, while being crammed into the porch of Jungle Jim’s with a bunch of strangers and remarking on the shortness of some skank’s dress as she walks by on the street:

“I bet her lips are chapped.”

Some days I dream about my own apartment… a quiet space that I can decorate with pretty candles, my father’s paintings, and fluffy pillows. Sometimes I get mad at myself for being so materialistic, but when I was a little girl I cut out clippings of furniture from catalogues so I could arrange them on blank pieces of paper like I was decorating my own house.

And then there are weekends when the drama at my current household is so out of control that I cannot help but think it’d be damned good writing material for a blog. It’s like Big Brother, all the time. Not like… throat-slitting, stab-you-in-the-back drama…more like make-out-with-all-of-your-best-friends/get-really-drunk drama.

I joined my writer friends on Friday night for drinks and appetizers at Montana’s, and then we headed to Greener’s show at Whiskey’s, formerly a sketchy bar for e-tards. The venue is still a little sleazy, but once again I had a blast, danced up a storm, and got drunk. Unintentionally.

Saturday, Albertian came to visit so the roommates and I hosted a small celebration. However, DirtySailor had neglected to tell us that the following day would be his birthday , so we doubled the celebration and ended up having a party. Said party took place mostly in my loft. My awesome shag carpet now has another dozen beer stains in addition to the dog shit stains and vomit stains. Best. Carpet. Ever.

Our new roommate, whom I will aptly name “Chef,” cooked us all an amazing supper of some German dish called Snitzel. Schnitzel? Whatever. It was incredible. We then got really drunk, had the police called on us, went dancing downtown, and came home and passed out. The house was in complete disarray, there were random people sleeping around the house and yet…I was totally happy. My body was screaming at me to stop inflicting such torture upon it, but seriously, when will I ever live in such a ridiculous household with four awesome people again?

Finally, Mother Nature has dumped a big pile of snow on the city. I feel somewhat relieved. Considering blizzards should have been a regular occurrence months ago, the feeling of impending doom has finally came and passed.

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