This is John Lennon's Car. It is at the Royal BC Museum for a Bit. Sorry the picture sucks. I took it with my telephonay

Life can be good sometimes

That was my day today.

Ohmygoodness. This morning I awoke to find a massive bump on my head and these crazy bruises all over my arm. I also slept in at least three different places last night (all unoccupied, don't worry) because "nowhere was comfortable enough". I won't say that there are gaps in my memory, but parts of it are definitely fuzzy. Ok, almost non-existent. Dammmnn.

Otherwise, there was lots of tea and a mushroom and cheese omelet for lunch. TB made these absolutely disgusting breaded jalapeno peppers stuffed with cream cheese. Actually, maybe they were good, but spicy foods and I just don't get along. And I napped and read Dan Brown's Angels and Demons and wondered how much of the book was based on actual fact. I mean, if there was a murdered man in your research facility, the first person to call would probably not be a symbologist. And it was kind of funny, because the book stresses all of these high-powered technological gadgets, but they still referred to using cassette players in the cars.

The aforementioned boarding school friend finally made it back to the house around two this afternoon with nothing but a jug of milk and a huge smile. Fairly hilarious.

Well hi.

I am back at the homework work'a work-work. Listening to Andrew Bird and chipping away at room-mate #3's sourdough creation. The work is grading other student's analytical history essays about "outsider control of Aboriginal tradition" or some such. So far its a blast. Makes one wonder how kids can get to 3rd year uni without learning how to cite properly. Jesus H.

Anyway last night was at the birthday party of a friend who admitted that night that he tried coke for no better reason than "I went to Boarding school." Which is cool I guess, just unexpected of a guy so neat and polite, you know?

And for some reason (maybe I dreamed about this last night?) I was remembering that time in Mexico when we were going through a toll booth onto the highway in our big van of teenagers and the guards asked us to pull over so that they could go through our bags. Our authority figure assured us that these guards were the "good guys" and there was nothing to worry about, which didn't make me any less nervous of an older man pulling out my dirty undies and giggling. Either way. They turned out to be very respectful and professional and yakity yak. By the end of the inspection they were all laughing and relaxed and they let this one girl we were with hold their massive machine gun and get her picture taken with it. Strange times in Mexico, man.