I Want to Be Left To My Own Devices.

This is where I went for a walk Saturday. And a gang of young men sped by on bikes whooping.


In the past week, two couples that I know have gotten engaged.
Heather, whose locker used to be next to mine, is marrying Elliott, who is British and whose parents died in high school and who once complimented my dainty feet and proceeded to ask me if I wanted children and what I would like to name them.

My friend Regan, who lives in D.C and is interning at the Smithsonian, is marrying her long time boyfriend.
U next L?

I dunno I guess I knit a sock. I've been plagued for the past week by the second cat, Johnny, who comes in in the middle of the night and stands on my chest. And tries to free climb my leg when I'm eating something tasty and is either blind in one eye or supremely disinterested in things happening to his left.
Other cat news: Jewy's full name is Ju-On, which is the Japanese name for the Grudge (Remember watching that movie at Maddy's birthday party and it was raining outside and we were sleeping in her living room in sort of a circle and there was glare on her TV so I couldn't see any of the scary parts and someone was giggling uncontrollably close to me anyway- Nicky?). Which was a name that came for her when she was malnourished and found, a yowling kitten in a cardboard box in the alley in Montreal. I guess I don't have to worry about telling people her name anymore.

Mike left last night and I went to the store and bought makeup and a pint of ice cream. And then I was embarrassed carrying it home like a cliche next to all the other girls clutching their ice cream and lipstick bags.

I have the worst headache and i'm listening to this

At least we're getting sun now.

I'm glad you have drunk bus stories.

I think my personal favorite for me is while I was in Montreal.  It just involved sneaking out to drink this delicious mint cooler in the alley way, a few streets behind the corner store we bought it all from. It felt ultra city slicker... and I don't remember much else from that night. I remember being silly with Camille and Kathryn.


Other than that, update on qualicum life:

1. It's quiet.
2. The local coffee shop makes the sweetest london fog still.
3. I feel weird being at the local QF
4. I'm impressed the forest walkway by my house has street lamps guiding my way. Parksville didn't have that.

Stardaddy Lives On

We were talking on break during class about throwing up and horrible hangovers, because apparently some debauchery went down this weekend, and I of course brought up the story about getting off the bus to throw up on the sidewalk, then catching the next one up to the school. I don't really remember the rest of the story to be honest. Like I know that Joey was moving to Vancouver, I know we were sitting around at someone's house passing around a small bottle of whiskey at one point. But really it was just another case of being too drunk and unjustified. Maybe this year will be the year of responsible beverage choices. The fact that no one finds that story very funny is a good indicator.

Plus David Bowie died, so nothing matters anymore.

L and the Milk

This is the story of L and the Milk. L is a German boy traveling in Canada over the winter. L has a degree in Geography and has never lived with anyone other than his family.
This winter, he decided to rent a room that he found on Craigslist. His roommate was uncommonly gorgeous and intelligent and he had a difficult time looking her in the eye, or coming out of room to spend time in the common areas of the house.
His roommate had just started drinking milk again regularly, after a summer of full swing dairy in which she realized that it wasn't worth drinking the milk of America's most water-consuming crop, especially since it makes everything taste worse (Still better than soy maybe). She had broke down one particularly cold week and bought a two liter carton, since she foresaw the need in the coming week for many hot chocolates.
L, as was customary, had bought his own large carton of milk. However, he was so shy he had trouble asking where the recycling was kept in the house. Once he finished the milk he left the empty carton in the fridge, and simply placed a new one next to it.
One day, his roommate opened the fridge to find her own half full milk carton, accompanied by his empty carton (which she removed and recycled for him), another half full carton and- what's this?- an entire full four liter jug of milk.
This is unfortunately where the story gets more difficult to tell as the author cannot fathom what a person could be planning to do with that much milk, especially since it goes bad so quickly. This is not the sort of product that one buys in bulk to save for a day when there is nothing else to eat.
The roommate, though deeply confused, did not have the chance to ask L what his intentions with the milk were as he had a tendency to stay out late and sleep in late.
The roommate went to visit her parents for two weeks over the Christmas holidays, and in this time forgot completely about the milk. When she returned to resume her studies in the new year, however, she found that the nearly full four liter jug of milk was still in the fridge, with a thick layer of scum rimming the top.
When L left the house to continue his travels, he took the milk with him.