I have never had one before and I haven’t lived with a functioning printer in years. Usually, I e-mail things to myself and print them at the library and all is well. Then I decided I didn’t want to pay for the internet since I have it at school and sometimes even at home so no big deal, right?
The sometimes at home days appear to be over and so, on Monday night at 5 am, after drunkenly (and in retrospect illegibly) transferring half of a 3000 word essay onto lined paper in pencil after writing the whole thing in Microsoft Word earlier that day…I hit the hay and accepted my fate. Tuesday would go down in history as the day I bought my first USB key. I wonder what USB means anyways…
Maybe, in the lives of people equipped with TXT MSGing equipment, it serves as a TXT FLRT acronym way of saying “U SO BEAUTIFUL…”
Or maybe, when you don’t understand what someone TXT MSG’d and you feel in the dark and you wish that you didn’t and want to say so, you could respond with USB meaning “Ummmm…SUP BROS?!” complete with some combination of punctuation marks that equals ‘confused face’.
Either way, boys in Sorels are just my bag…
To the lad strolling past Euro-Deli around 6:30 on Thursday evening, with mid-calf Sorels, a furry ear-flapped hat and his nose in a book…you’re cute. And I hope that you’re okay because you could get hurt walking round those parts with your nose in a book like that these days because traffic (pedestrian and automobile) is now in full swing considering the nightmare on St. Laurent is finally over.
Consider looking up. Consider looking up into my eyes. Consider looking up into my eyes and asking me to marry you (as you brush my hair behind my ear as though my heart has not already stopped). I’d consider marrying you. I have mid-calf Sorels too.
After what seemed like two and half years of constant construction, the nightmare is finally over. The sidewalks are massive. Which is…useful?? Surely it will come in handy one day when I have 4 boyfriends and we are walking to Place Milton for breakfast (after a wild night in my double-bed), with arms linked and me in the middle. That will probably happen in 2008. Maybe even in time for Valentine’s Day!
To the really tall guy with brown hair and blue eyes and full-calf black Sorels walking through McGill campus at around 6:41 on Thursday evening…I will gladly bear your children. Even if I am already married to the guy with his nose in a book. His nose will be in a book. He won’t even notice. We’ll probably get divorced.
Like that even matters.
Anyone who lives in my neighbourhood probably knows who I’m talking about. You might think I mean the really tall guy with curlyish brown hair and so-called ‘hipster gear’ (bright t-shirts, relatively skinny jeans, fresh kicks, sometimes a fresh hat too) who may or may not live next to Caitlin Manicom.
I really don’t know if he lives next to Caitlin Manicom. I just know that one time when I was on Caitlin Manicom’s balcony with Mark Murray, Mark saw THAT tall guy next door and said “Hey! Tall guy! I know you!” and I guess they met a few days before or something. I don’t mean that guy. Although he does look VERY strong.
I mean the OTHER really tall guy. With the straighter longer hair. And the soulful eyes…
Tall guys versus guys in Sorels. It’s a TOSS-UP!
I like boys who dress warm because it means they are smart and might write a smart/funny love song for me one day about how we met when we were C-O-Z-Y and then we took off our boots, got more C-O-Z-Y and were in L-O-V-E. Maybe in time for Valentine’s Day!
I don’t hate Valentine’s Day even though I haven’t had a romantic one in a long time. And we watched 40 Days and 40 Nights and how romantic is that??
It cuts it when you’re 17, I guess. I got a bracelet too and it is now collecting dust in a box on the top shelf in the closet in my brother’s old room.
A box I haven’t ventured into in quite some time. It used to be because I feared that might cause my heart to break all over again but nowadays when I’m back in Ottawa, I’m too busy looking through my mom’s old shit in the cedar closet in the basement to even give it a second thought. Which is great considering my teenage heartache was arguably more traumatizing than all of yours combined.
But I suppose everyone feels that way sometimes…
BRO DOWN!
That said, I appreciated the gesture of that bracelet but I don’t really get the whole fancy jewellery/watches thing (the same goes for stuffed animals, they’re wack).
To my future love, I’d really rather have a cool vibrator with a funny name (like LE SWHINGZAAA!!) rather than something shiny and/or sparkly from Tiffany’s.
Or we could go on a picnic and drink some good wine.
Or you could just steal that bottle of Cristal your dad bought during the first season of Full House.
You know, the one he bought to open on Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s 18th birthday… What do you MEAN what am I talking about?? He SAID he was going to pop it and think about how you never forget your first virgin!
He even wrote them a letter and invited them to come over for fajitas!
What do you MEAN that was supposed to be a secret??
Whatever man, I know for a FACT he never drank it. Those girls started dressing like old ladies and he decided your mom wasn’t so bad after all.
I never SAID your mom was ugly! Look, I was just trying to have a nice economical romantic Valentine’s Day. I’m not being mean, I’m being realistic. If we drank your dad’s champagne and scratched the whole picnic idea, you wouldn’t have to spend a penny. Too bad you’re such a PUSSY. I’m just SAYING…
Don’t worry, he’s just sensitive, he’ll get over it. In like 3 weeks. Anyways…
Girls that hate Valentine’s Day are weird.
Why are you so angry? So you don’t have a boyfriend… CALM DOWN. Fuck Hallmark? Fuck YOU! Come out dancing with me and I’ll wear my red cape and red plaid dress and shiny superhero belt and the red leather boots Hilary got me for Christmas a few years ago.
We’ll get poutine later. And pizza too! It’ll be fun, I promise.
But stay home and watch Sex and the City with some other whiny bitches if that’s your bag. I don’t need you and your COSMOPOLITANS. You’ve got a bad attitude. Besides, whiskey tastes better. Sex on the BEACH? Pfffft….whiskey and Dr. Pepper, it’s what next honeys who don’t need nobody to help them handle their biz…it’s what WE call ROMANCE. Mansa? Becca?? Anybody? Anybody??
And girls? You should probably stick with DIET if you really want guys to like you. A sense of humour and a great tape collection and hair that smells OUTRAGEOUS does NOT a hottie make. Christ, you’re really that deluded…
And don’t even THINK about making the first move. You just thought about it! Way to fuck yourself over for life.
And what’s the deal with Ovaltine...
If you think I hate Sex and the City, you’re wrong.
Big had me at absofuckinlutely.
I have a Big/You have a Big/So does everyone and their GRANDMA...
So like, whatever, right? There is a time and a place for Sex and the City and it’s just not Valentine’s Day and you just might die alone if you don’t stop your whining and get with the program. I mean it.
Carrie is whiny but hey, I can be whiny too sometimes. It was worth watching for the wardrobe changes alone and hey, so am I sometimes…I hope? Basically I’m trying to tell you that Patricia Field is totally bitchin’. PJ? Anybody? Anybody??
Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t know who Vivienne Westwood is…
And you call yourself a PUNK??
WATCH OUT!
A Misfits t-shirt does NOT a rebel make. Remember what I taught you back in October or whenever?
Don't act like I never told you.
Cool, so can I have a purple Misfits t-shirt for Chrismas, please??
It will look great with my neon yellow leggings and KEDS. Or maybe my gold lamé leggings…
Oh, hadn’t you heard?! THEY NOW COME IN 30 DIFFERENT COLOURS!!!
REJOICE! REJOICE! HOSANNAH IN THE HIGHEST! ALL HAIL DOV CHARNEY! I HEARD TEENAGED GIRLS LEAVE THE APARTMENT CRYING ON THE REGULAR!
And I heard Dov Charney’s a STELLAR lay…
I heard HEY COME ON YOU GUYS, laugh at yourselves, come on, come on, come on, you know you think you’re style is next level. You’re something else. You’re going places. You’re fresh. Exciting. Like that Kool & the Gang song! And you have at least 3 pairs of American Apparel leggings and more than one of those deep-v summer t-shirts. You know you do. I know I do. So let's have a laugh like how they say in British.
And I think that those t-shirts are damn sexy on girls AND boys and boys who like girls who like girls who like boys who like boys and Eric Jensen has like 16 of that shirt (or he does a LOT of laundry…)and what of it?? Either way, I should probably get a new white one because this one is pit-stained the fuck out and the truth is, I shouldn’t even wear it to bed anymore but does that mean I’m going to change before I hit the hay? Not a chance.
You know how sometimes, when you’re high, you mix up Pacino and De Niro??
That same thing happens to me with Dov Charney. In my head, he’s Terry Richardson. Why is that??
I heard Terry Richardson’s a STELLAR lay…
Kate Moss said so and I’m in love with her so there it is.
I like Kate Moss’ new perfume Kate Moss by Kate Moss.
At least I thought I did...
But Mansa told me I smelled like mothballs.
And I don’t like the smell of mothballs.
Or when Mansa makes that SCARY face!
I might have brainwashed myself into thinking it smells sexy because I read somewhere that she designed it as something you can put on in the morning in order to smell sexy by nighttime.
Does that sound stupid, now that I stop and think about it?? Maybe Mansa is wrong… Afterall, when I shoved my neck in her pretty face, it had only been about 45 minutes since I spritzed myself at Shoppers Drug Mart. And 45 minutes is not the same as a full workday. Not that I have a job or anything. But I’m totally going to get one. Soon. Maybe in time for Valentine’s Day…
And HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANS ZIMNOCH!
Funny thing is, as I wrap this up, WELCOME TO JAMROCK is playing. And it’s like, OUR SONG in that it’s TOTALLY NOT OUR SONG. It’s the song that we secretly dared this DJ we were mad at to play and then…HE PLAYED IT! Man, were we like “NO WAY!/FUCK YOUUUUU!!!” Why am I listening to it if it irks me so? Because it comes in just before the 44 minute mark on this month’s podcast from the FADER and that’s what I’m listening to. See? I'm with it! I’m not a regular mom, I’m a COOL mom. God bless Amy Poehler.
And Hans Zimnoch. He’s the man for bro downs for sure. If I weren’t such a fuck-up, I’d be hanging with him on his birthday, drinking 40s of whatever’s cheap, shot by shot, one every minute, until we fall over (because Hans’ roommate Cary won’t shut up about how 50 cent is the new Jay-Z.)
JiggaWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!
Christ.
He’s as bad as Carrie BRADSHAW!
So he should probably make a run for it.
LOVE,
P.S. I actually like Cary. He lent me the cinematic masterpiece that is Airheads even though he didn’t want to and I promised to give it back soon and that was like 2months ago plus he has the same Air Force 1s as me so how bad can he be??
Snakeskin with grey swooshes. I also have white ones with yellow swooshes and purple ones with yellow swooshes. But how would YOU know that? I never EVER wear them. I toy with the idea from time to time but I always end up putting them back on top of my orange bookshelf because I’m just not that hip-hop (although I am at heart). I happen to like the way they look on top of my orange bookshelf. Yeah I know, my parents don’t get it either.
THE FINAL THOUGHT?
It’s time I invested in a shovel.
Oh and this too.
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