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The book that made me behave like a sappy whiner emo baby

The book that made me behave like a sappy whiner emo baby

Being absorbed in the writing of this navy training manual has left me completely oblivious to the surrounding world, including the fact that J-Nurse, Dinner and their 500 pound dog/horse are moving to Nova Scotia next week.

J-Nurse dropped by the house tonight with my belated Christmas present… a little scrapbook filled with pictures of our years together, mostly in university. Funny, we went to school together for thirteen years, but it wasn’t until we left home that we became close. I flipped through the book, sniffling and snorting the whole time, and was suddenly faced with the fact that my best friend is leaving me. Leaving me all alone. All alone in the world without anyone else to do my hair or slap me across the face when I’m being unreasonable or take me shopping for clothes that actually match.


The pictures were…ridiculous. At least half the content contained me kissing somebody, somebody else licking my face, backgrounds littered with beer bottles, etc. My boobs and vag also made impressive appearances, although briefly. And all the while I was thinking how terrible it is to grow up. To lose that edge. That little bit of insanity. That piece of skankiness.


And all I gave her for Christmas was a framed photo of me and her. She put hours into my gift. God I’m a terrible friend, slaving away for hours on a navy training manual without considering the fact my best friend is leaving. I’m going to replace her with Bailey the golden lab and perhaps JagerBomb if she’ll have me.


New best friend, Bailey the fatty.

New best friend, Bailey the fatty.

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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