Where cooties come from

Friday was sleepover day at the daycare. The kids all brought their PJs, their teddy bears and their sleeping bags and we played games and read stories. As two of the kids were laying out their bags at the beginning of the day, I heard the following conversation between two 6 year olds:

little girl: you can share my sleeping bag with me.

little boy: I don't want to share your sleeping bag.

lg: why not?

lb: because you have cooties.

lg: I do not!

lb: yes you do.

lg: where do cooties come from?

lb: I don't know, but they have something to do with your breasts.

lg: oh.

I kid you not, that's exactly what he said.

Four hours with Kindergardeners has taught me:

1) If you want to be told "I love you" by a 6 year old boy, bring him tadpoles

2) If the box says "for ages 7 and up" and you're 6, then you are definitely NOT allowed to play. 

3) Skipping two bars on the monkey bars makes you playground royalty. 

4) If you tell a 6 year old that you're 22, they'll look at you for a minute then ask where your kids are.

5) All it takes is one 5-minute game of Pictionary Jr to get a love letter from a 7 year old.

6) Flashing Montreal Canadien sneakers are WAY cooler than a Toronto Maple Leafs sweat suit. 

7) If you cover dog poop with some rocks, it's only a matter of time before someone will pick up the rocks and end up covered in poop. 

8) Counting 1..... 2.... 3..... will solve pretty much any crisis. 

9) If you're 5'9" then your legs are REALLY long.

10) All you have to do to gain some respect is be able to draw a dog, a cat and a mouse in a house. 

11) Nachos dipped in peach drink is the funniest thing on the planet. 

12) If someone pukes, everyone MUST know about it RIGHT AWAY. 

13) Hannah Montana is a god.

14) If you pull out a long blade of grass and plant it in the sand, an entire farm will grow overnight.

15) Goggle-y eyes are WAY TOO COOL.

16) Girls are mean to each other at every age.

17) 'Heck' is a bad word.

18) If you spit on someone, telling the adult that it's your birthday in 8 days will get you off the hook (...not really... but it will make them laugh)

19) Dandelions make great gifts for mom, even if the stuff they eat is gross and gooey.

I did it!

That $30 000 piece of paper is finally mine! (and I didn't even fall when I walked across the stage to get it, though I did drop my lipgloss - I had it lodged in my bra because I didn't have any pockets - and the dean spent the reception afterwards searching for me so he could return it to me).

Bruised like the peach that I am

I should be banned from the world of blogging. I'm a terrible, terrible blogger, and for that, I apologize. I wish I could say that I haven't had time to blog because I've been busy saving starving children, or finding the cure for AIDS. Even if I could say I've been busy working, I'd feel a little better. But no, this past week was my first week of work and I clocked a whopping 12 hours. WOAH. So what have I been doing with my time? Well, I started reading the Golden Compass by Philip Pullman, but I'm only 98 pages into it, so that doesn't really count, and I was planning a surprise scavenger hunt for my boyfriend for his birthday, but that only took a couple days, and well, I've been sleeping... a lot. I really am a very boring person. 

I'll fill you in on my weekend excitement though....

On Thursday I went to the blood clinic to get a blood test done because an alarming amount of my family members have been testing positive for a genetic disorder called Factor 5 Leiden. I don't know much about it except that it has something to do with Protein C and Protein S and it causes hypercoagulability, which, in turn, can lead to blot clots. Apparently, if I test positive, then I'll have to go off oral contraceptives. But the ironic part is that women who have the disease and become pregnant are at a greater risk of thrombosis. Go figure... 

Anyway, I got my blood test, and within minutes of leaving the clinic, my arm started to hurt. So, like always, I ignored it for a bit. Two hours later it's still hurting. Come supper time, I look down at my arm and it's turning a shade of blue directly below the elbow. At about 10 pm last night, I was getting a little nervous, seeing as the bruise was getting bigger by the minute. I called Telecare and the nurse on the line told me to get to a hospital within 4 hours. So of course I didn't go. This morning it was looking better so I figured it was going away. Then... I went to work. I don't think lifting trays of dirty dishes helped my arm any, and now it's getting black and blue again. I haven't had a bruise this big since I fell off a stage during a performance 7 years ago. 

The picture doesn't really do it justice, but at least you can get an idea of the size of the sucker. If it didn't hurt I wouldn't really care so much... I mean, a good bruise always makes for an interesting story, but when it affects my sleep it's gone too far. 

Speaking of sleep... I'm out. 

I'm in the blue! :D

Alright, sorry for the lack of posts lately... I've been a pretty boring individual since I finished school. All I've been doing is packing and moving...

Anyway, I was reading Healthbolt today and decided to take the vitality compass challenge - it tells you what your life expectancy is based on your current life habits. My results are as follows:

Biological age: 19.2

Life expectancy: 93.9

Healthy life expectancy: 80.9

Blue zone years: 12.2

and I could add: 4.4

Not too bad... but I could definitely do better. I went back and retook the quiz based on the hours I used to dance when I was in high school (when I was in the studio every day for about 3 hours on average). Here are the new results:

Biological age: 18.4

Life expectancy: 97.7

Healthy life expectancy: 85.2

Blue zone years: 15.9

and I could add: 2.0

I could add five years of healthy life expectancy if I can get back into a good work out/exercise routine!! Definitely something to think about....

So, take the quiz at bluezones.com and leave a comment to let me know how it goes. 

I'M DONE!!!!!!!!

DONE 

DONE  

DONE

DONE

DONE DONE

DONE

DONE

DONE

DONE AT MOUNT A FOREVER!

...that is all :)

"And your duties would be..."

On Tuesday I had a job interview for a local daycare, so the night before as I was going through my almost-nightly routine of watching an episode of Friends on sidereel.com, I decided to watch 'The one with the cooking class", seeing as Chandler goes for a job interview in the episode. At the time, I thought maybe it would be a good choice, maybe I'd get some sound advice on how to ace the interview. Here's a clip from the show...

So, the next day at the interview, the woman who is interviewing me is talking a bit about the job and what does she say? "Let's talk about what your DUTIES would be." No joke. I almost lost it. I don't think I've ever shown that much restraint in my life. As I was leaving, I almost pulled a Chandler and said "Have you ever seen that episode of Friends where Chandler goes to a job interview and starts talking about doody? You know, poo?" Seriously, the words were on the tip of my tongue. To prevent myself from letting it slip, I started rambling about the weather and how spring was on its way. Lame, I know, but at least I didn't talk to my potential future boss about poop. 

Post from England

In July & August of 2004, my mom, my grandmother and myself took a trip to England and Wales to see where my grandmother was born and raised. Tonight, mom came across this email that I sent to my dad while we were away. It made me laugh so I thought I would share: (make sure you read to the end)

Hey Daddy, 

I don't have much time because I only brought 2 pounds with me, so this may be short... but I'll type as fast as I can (bear with the typos). Today was a pretty good day, we started off with a tour of Westminster Abbey. It was pretty neat to see where all the royal stuff (coronations, weddings, funerals) take place. Plus it was where the Anglican Church started so that was pretty cool. Then we went down to Buckingham Palace to watch the  changing of the guards. T he lady that sat with me on the bus was from Scotland, I could barely understand a word she said... Anyway, so we got dropped off at Trafalgar Square (where there's a GRANITE column commemorating Lord NELSON, right beside the CANADA building). We roamed around there and Picadilly for awhile then headed over the Thames to the London Eye (it took mom some convincing to get on it). Then I found a sporting store where everything was on sale :) :) :) I ended up getting a Welch rugby jersey and a English 'football' one too. On the way home we got VERY lost on the tube and had to get a bunch of people to help us. I think one guy (prolly around 19 or 20ish) was in complete awe of how stupid we were, but he was very helpful. Then when we finally got redirected by some other man from Notting Hill he helped us out quite a bit. He ended up holding the subway doors open for us since Grammy couldn't run to catch it. 

Anyway, tonight we went to see Chicago. It was SOOOOO good. We had pretty bad seats (Second row, fat right) but it was still amazing. David Hasselhoff was in it too, mom was impressed, she said she's going to rub it in Ruth's face. (Ruth is my aunt, who apparently had a thing for Hasselhoff?!) 

I wish you had've come with us, you'd love all the architecture and the carvings, it's really quite impressive. And my fake British accent is coming along nicely too.

I haven't done too many drugs since getting here, nor have I gotten so drunk that it's taken me any more than 5 trips on the tube to get me home. (Legal age here is only 18 by the way). Mom's trying to send with off with random guys to pick up some more pounds, we're running out quickly because of all the British weed we're been smoking in hyde park after hours. Grammy says she's feeling the best she's felt in years. Oh, and while we were long on the tube a drunk man offered me a swig of what was in his brown paper bag... so I took it and ran before he could catch up with me... the more I drank the faster I seemed to run. I don't know what it was, but it was some powerful. The police actually thanked me for helping to stop the drunk bums in the subway. Also, mom's decided to let me roam free at night since I want to go clubbing and it's not quite what her and gram want to do (they'd rather hit up the pubs). 

Anyway, I best be off... I've got a taxi waiting around the corner with my liquor run for the night... 

Love, Steph xoxox

I'm actually kind of surprised my father didn't have a second heart attack after this email. I can just picture him sitting in front of the computer with a stunned look on his face, trying to figure out if I was serious or if I was kidding around. 

Last Class Bash

Today marked my last class EVER at Mount A.... it's kind of too bad I slept through it. God knows if I'll ever be back in any of the buildings on campus. It's kind of a strange feeling. I still remember my first week at Mount A, how big campus felt and how completely lost I was. Now, 5 years later, I know that campus like the back of my hand, every corner of it has some kind of memory associated with it. Like how Arran and Ash stopped to take a nap in the garden out side the chapel because their residence was too far from the pub, or how many hours I spent on the red floor of the library trying to cram information into my overworked brain. Every time I think of the biology building I'll think of the weekend I spent dissecting dead cats and sharks to study for my chordate anatomy lab exam. I smelled so much like formaldehyde by the end of that weekend that my boyfriend at the time wouldn't even hug me. Or there was the time I pranced around the stage at Con Hall in a bright pink and blue 80's bodysuit with purple leg warmers while the leads in Footloose sang "Holding out for a Hero". 

 I'm holding out for a hero til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight....

I can still remember the terrible, tacky choreography that went along with it. Ahhhh first year. 

Tonight marks an end to these memories.... Thank God! I had a phenomenal time while I was here, I made some great friends, had some amazing memories and got a double major too. But I'm ready to move on with my life. 

Tonight I get drunk... tomorrow I decide what to do with my life... eep!

Hopefully tonight will look something like the following: 

The above video is from a few weekends ago. Derrick had a few too many triple rum & cokes and I just happened to catch it on camera. He's going to kill me when he sees that I posted the video, but I figure no one reads this anyway, so who cares? haha :) 

Essay. From the French essayer, meaning to try. 

I'm trying but I'm sure not getting anywhere. I have a 16 page paper on the treatment of bulimia due on Monday for my advanced psychopathology seminar. I've been staring at a blank screen since 1:00 this afternoon and all I've got so far is 166 words in which I regurgitate the DSM-IV TR criteria for bulimia. In those 166 words, I use the words vomit or purge 7 times. This is gonna be a great essay. 

You'd think I would have a lot to say on this topic, seeing as I wrote a paper on it last year and I just did a half hour presentation/debate on it less than two weeks ago. But no, my brain has decided it has worked too hard for the past 17 years and it wants a break. 

I'm going to eat. Hopefully I'll have a somewhat intelligent conversation with my roommate and recharge my neurons. 

(Wo)man's best friend

I've been meaning to get around to this post since I started this blog about a month ago, but I've been putting it off because I knew I'd get emotional while writing it. 

When I was in the third grade my parents got me a puppy - a dalmatian. I named her Penny, and she was my dog (my name was even on the papers). I picked her out, taught her tricks (well, I tried to teach her tricks), and let her sleep at the foot of my bed every night. (When I started university I couldn't get used to her not being in my bed so I had to sleep with a pillow on my feet to make it seem like she was there). I still remember the day we went and picked her out, it was 14 years ago and I still remember every minute of it - Nov. 11/1993.

 I was so proud of my dog, I even brought her in for show and tell in the fifth grade. When she would get out of the house, I would run after her and chase her around the neighborhood until I had her back safe in my arms. One day I even chased her barefoot over the cedar shavings they were using to make some trails behind my house - I had splinters in my feet for days, but my Penny was safe. 

When I went away for my first year of university, Penny wasn't doing good. She had a condition that caused her to "reverse sneeze", and you could tell her age was catching up with her. We took her to the University of PEI veterinary hospital to get some tests done and they told us she had about 6 months to live. Four years later she was still alive. 

While I was away in New Orleans, however, I found out that my parents had made the decision to put Penny down. They did it on the 29th of February (it was the Friday, the day I was leaving for New Orleans) and I didn't find out until March 6th. My parents were leaving for China and I asked who was taking care of Penny while we were all away, that's when dad told me. I was on a bus heading to downtown New Orleans where we were going out as a group (all 39 of us) and my parents were at the airport about to board their flight. At one point, I was in the bathroom of the bus and mom was in the bathroom at the airport, both of us crying. 

I knew it was coming, she'd been sick for a long time and my parents had been hinting at it. But I didn't want to accept it. The worst part was that I had no say in the decision and I was the last one to find out. I know it would have been hard to watch the vet give her the injection, but at least I could have been there comforting her, give her one last pat on the head, rub her ears and tell her she's a good girl. 

I don't know why this is hitting me so hard tonight. Maybe it's because I finally have a chance to breathe, or maybe it's because I haven't wanted to deal with it. All I know is that tonight I'm really missing my puppy. 

Penny was a wonderful dog. She had her faults yes, she didn't like other dogs and she barked pretty much incessantly, but she loved her family. She did the funniest things, when she would stand at the gate and whine it sounded like she was saying "moooommmmmm". When she was a puppy (and before we put the island in the middle of the kitchen), she would run and slide on her belly on the newly washed floors. In the backyard, she would run laps in one direction then stop and start running in the opposite direction - she'd do this for hours if we let her. If she didn't get her morning bread and peanut butter with mom, she was not a happy camper. 

We read somewhere once that it's nice for dogs to have a stuffed animal that is theirs, so we went out and bought Penny a stuffed Simba (from the lion king).  One day, we had to run out and do some errands, so we left Penny and Simba together in the kennel to cuddle. When we got home it looked like there'd been a blizzard in the crate. Penny had destroyed poor Simba and the stuffing was EVERYWHERE. For years after, we kept finding little squares of Simba's fur that Penny had been keeping and playing with. That was her first, and only, stuffed animal. 

Oh Penny... always good at cheering me up. 

I didn't realize how much I would miss her, especially where I'm not home that much anymore. I just have to keep telling myself, she's no longer in any pain and she's running laps all over heaven. She's keeping Grammy Holloway, Loris and Andrew company too. 

Miss you Penny, Love you. 

(I'll add some puppy pictures when I get a chance to scan them in)

AWOL no more

My apologies for not updating over the past few weeks, it's that time of year again. You know, that time of the year when university students across the country regress to the mental age of a preschooler. Panic attacks become a common occurrence, naps are a necessity and day dreams of spring and summer make studying Markov Processes and B. F. Skinner close to impossible. Over the past two weeks I think I've learned more about all-inclusive prices to Cuba than I have about the history of psychology. Today marked an exciting step for me though, after I finished my midterm this morning, I realized I only have three things standing between me and graduation. Count them: one, two, three! THREE!!! 

1) 16 page paper on the effectiveness of treatment for bulimia nervosa - due April 7. 

2) 10 page biography on Stanley Milgram - due April 10. 

3) 3-hour finite mathematics final - on April 19, 7-10pm. 

At 10pm on April 19th I will be done with Mount Allison, and done with the town that time forgot (also known as Sackville). 

I've been dreaming of this moment for five years now. I always hoped I'd be off to Europe after graduation, but reality has set in, and the finances aren't there, so now I'm thinking I'm going to organize the stuff I've accumulated over the past 22 years, sell whatever I don't want and get rid of whatever doesn't sell, start a savings account, get a job and maybe, if I'm really daring, start an herb garden. Exciting, I know. 

Honestly though, I'm really looking forward to starting the next chapter of my life. I've enjoyed my time here at Mount A. I've met the most amazing people. I've learned a ton about life and I guess I've learned a thing or two about biology and psychology too. Mind you, I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. That's something they should tell you when you graduate high school: going to university only postpones the "what do you want to be when you grow up" decision. Back in the days when I was young and naive I thought that university held all the answers. Now, five years later, I'm hoping that maybe grad school will have them? 

Well, I'm off for a nap, then it's back to the lib. 

Adventures in Panda Land

My parents went to the Beijing zoo today to see the panda exhibit. I was hoping they would get to see something like this (which kept me in stitches for the better part of an hour one day):

They didn't see any sneezing baby pandas, but mom did get some great pictures. Here's one:

Things that make me laugh

This could be a long post. I may end up actually spreading it out over several posts, just so it looks like I have more to say. 

1) Because I Said So

This woman is a goddess. How she does it, I don't know. She has 6 (yes, SIX!) kids!! Her blog is about her adventures in parenting and the trouble her kids get in. It's good for a laugh.

2) Cats

This video puts me in stitches every time I watch it. Cats are funny. I don't like cats. 

3) Rob Paravonian (or something like that)

This guy is funny. Enough said. 

4) Bo Burnham

I feel like I'm going to hell in a hand basket every time I watch one of this guys videos. But they're too funny not to watch. My personal favorites are "The Perfect Woman" and "Rehab for Fictional Characters". You have to watch the first one multiple times to get over the shock.

5) My dad's elephant story

I'm saving this one for a separate post. It's just too good. 

6) Cyanide & Happiness 

This website makes me giggle. It's not a site that I go to often, but it's pretty funny at times.

7) Whose Line Is It Anyway?

I used to love watching episodes of this show in high school. Last year during exams I rediscovered it on youtube and stayed up (laughing myself stupid) until 3:00am watching this video:

I also really enjoy this one:

8) The mom song 

Just watch it. It's funny.

One from the archives

I decided to go through my old blog and re-read my old posts (all four of them). This one brought back some old memories of what it's like to be single, and made me VERY thankful that I have a wonderful boyfriend. I thought I would share...

I'm going to tell you about my latest adventures, or should I say misadventures, with the opposite sex...

I'm going to start with Chip... and I"m going to use his real name because it makes the story that much better..

I was in Chapters about a month ago buying some last minute Christmas gifts for my family. I had just picked up a photography book for my mom and was heading to the cash when I could see a rather awkward looking character lurking behind the shelves. I had a bad feeling about him, so I made a fast dash to the cash, but he was a quick little bugger and cornered me in the main aisle. He looked pretty pathetic, like one of those puppies that you just can't help but feel bad for, so when he asked me how old I was, (he really knew how to strike up a conversation with the ladies), I told him I was 21. The look in his eyes then turned to pure excitement and he explained to me how much he hated Canada because there was no snow and that he was from Colorado and all he wanted to do was go snowboarding (this guy did NOT look like a snowboarder... the story would unroll differently from here on if he did...). He then explained that he was here visiting his father, who had just moved here, and he didn't know anyone. Then he asked for my phone number. I don't know if it was his crooked glasses, or the sweater with the holes in it, or even his out of control hair, but I took pity on the poor boy and gave him my cell number and told him to call me after Christmas. I then ran for the cash.

Two hours later, just walking in the door, my cell phone rings. Guess who?? Yup, it's Chip (I didn't realize that when I said 'call me after Christmas', I really meant 2 hours later). I re-explained to him that I would be busy until after Christmas and told him to call me around the 27th.

Another 3 hours pass... the cell phone rings again... it's Chipppppppp...

That night I'm out at a martini bar with a few of my friends and the phone rings again. I get my friend to answer it and tell him that I left my purse with her for the night because I decided to go downtown. She then explains to him that I was really busy until after Christmas and he'd have to wait to get a hold of me until around the 27th.

So this continues for awhile to the point were I began to dread my cell ring (even if it does sound like the theme song from Sex & the City... sooo fun). Finally, I don't know if it was the Christmas spirit or the wine, but I answered my phone on Christmas eve. It was Chip (surprise, surprise). He explained to me that he didn't feel like spending Christmas eve with his dad, his new step-mom and her kids and then asked if he could tag along with me for the night. I told him No, flat out and hung up. (I was getting a little frustrated with Chip at this point).

After Christmas, Chip continues to call me, until finally, at 2am might I add, I pick up the phone and tell him that I didn't have time to hang out since a friend was coming down to stay with me for the remainder of the holiday. He got all defensive and started getting pissy and I was pissy cause he was calling at 2am. I believe that the final words spoken were:

Me - "It's 2am, I'm going to bed. Good bye"
Chip - "Well I guess I'll never talk to you again."
Me - "Guess not." Click.

I probably wasn't the best representative of Canadian girls, and I'm sure that Chip went home to Colorado to all his equally awkward friends and told them all how bitchy Canadian girls are. But in my defense, I get 3 weeks off a year, I spent 8 months in school and 4 months working in the summer. Those 3 weeks are mine... I do whatever I please with them, and this Christmas my plans didn't include babysitting a "snowboarder" from Colorado.

Hand Grenades and Horny Gators

So, we were down in Nawlins - or New Orleans incase you don't speak Southern, for reading week. I'll give a full, detailed account of the trip later, but for now I'm going to keep you all on the edge of your seats, and just tell one fun little anecdote from the trip. 

We were walking around the French Quarter on a beautiful sunny day and we decided to stop for lunch on Bourbon St. Among the 100's of bars, we decided on Tropical Isle to grab a bite. The food was actually pretty good and we decided to wash it down with a beverage of the alcoholic sort. Now, in case you're not familiar with New Orleans (which I'm assuming includes all 2 of you that actually read my blog), this particular bar is famous for it's Hand Grenades, Horny Gators and Tropical Itches. 

Upon doing a quick google search, I discovered that the Hand Grenade is comprised of 5 different kinds of alcohol, and equals to 7 and a half shots!!! These drinks aren't for your typical lightweight American tourists - but seeing as we're Canadian, and university students, we figured the warning didn't apply to us. Yes, that's right, these drinks come with a warning. (I just spent about 45 minutes trying to find the warning on google, but no luck - I'll ask around and see if anyone still has a copy of it) 

After consuming hand grenades, we bought various other drinks for the sole reason that we 

wanted to drink in the streets - because it's legal to do that in New Orleans! (Yay for the Napoleonic Code, which Louisiana is under) Needless to say, we were all feeling pretty great at this point in time.

So what does one do in New Orleans while intoxicated at 1 in the afternoon? Eat Beingets of course!!

We got our clan together and headed down to Cafe du Monde, which I'm surprised we actually found, given that we were drunk and in a new city. So we're sitting around eating our beignets when one of the girls in the group randomly shouts out "Is that Michael Buble?". The conversation stopped dead at that exact moment and all of our heads whip around to see Michael Buble sitting no more than two tables away fom us. 

Now, let me explain something first, I'm not an obsessive fan, I don't stalk celebrities, I don't even read celebrity gossip, but the sight of Michael Buble no more than 10 feet away from me

made me more than slightly giddy. Maybe it was the hand grenades, maybe it was the fact that I saw him in concert in February and swooned for the entire show (as well as for days later), I don't know what it was, but the butterflies in my stomach were definitely in flight. 

At this point, we all grab our cameras and run over to get our pictures taken with him. By the time it was my turn I was so giddy I could barely talk (or breathe). I automatically sat down beside him, I don't even know if I said anything to him, I can't remember (I'm going to blame to booze for the amnesia, and not the fact that I was just THAT excited/nervous). All I know is that I definitely got a picture taken with him, and I definitely told him that his concert was the highlight of my life (I say stupid things when I'm nervous!). Oh, and as I was walking away, I suddenly decided I HAD to shake his hand, so I ran back over to him and stuck out my hand (again, I have no idea if I actually said anything at this point or not). 

So that's my Michael Buble experience. Sarah's experience however, takes the cake. I would tell it to you, but it's so much better when you hear it first hand, so here it is: 

Isn't it priceless?

Once we were done making asses of ourselves in front of Michael Buble, I felt the need to run (literally) over and tell Derrick  (my boyfriend) what I just experienced. (He had missed all the excitement because he'd been talking to a tour lady about her experiences during Katrina) As I'm walking (running) away from the table that Sarah and I were sharing, I hear her break out into song  "ALLLLLLLL BY MYSELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLFFFF..... DON'T WANNA BEEE ALLLLLLLLLLLLL BY MYYYYYYYYSELFFFFFFFFFFF ANYMOOREEEEEEEEEEE". God, I hope Michael didn't hear that!! Oh, we also proceeded to lick the powered sugar off the plates too. We really are classy folks, I promise! 

Moral of this story: Hand grenades are dangerous, and the warnings should be taken seriously.

_____________________________________

Edit: As I was cleaning my disaster of a bedroom the other day, I finally found the Official Hand Grenade Drinking Guide:

Drink #1 - Will lift your spirits and make you happy. 

Drink #2 - Will give you a nice buzz

Drink #3 - Will result in a complete loss of your inhibitions

Drink #4 - Will cause you to dance in the streets. Females may be promted to show their tits

Drink #5 - YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN! WE DON'T RECOMMEND DRINKING 5!

About me

I'm currently a student at a small university in the south-east corner of New Brunswick. I'm doing a BSc and majoring in both Biology and Psychology (I'm a sucker for punishment) and I'm only 3 courses away from graduating. I'm practically counting down the days until I get that $30 000 piece of paper. I'm 22 years old (although some days I still feel 10), I've been dancing since I was 4 (but I've had to slow down lately because of various nagging injuries) and I'm really bad at talking about myself. I love: summer, strawberries, indie music, animals, volunteering, sunglasses, Juno, warm rain, my cottage, 70's inspired flowy shirts, lilies, traveling, dance, cold beer, children, Wii, laughing, red wine, Christmas time, flip flops, apple crisp, country music, Scrubs (the TV show, not the clothing) and the beach. 

My boyfriend, who I'm sure will be mentioned in a post or two, is simply amazing. He deals with my pre-graduation insanity and loves me despite it. He also cleans, does dishes, gives massages and brings me Midol when I feel like I'm going to die. He's my Rock! ;)

My cat, Moose, was an unexpected addition to our happy little apartment. He was found, stick thin and covered in dirt, by some of the guys that I worked with this past summer. When I showed up to work the next morning they said they had a surprise for me and handed over the kitten. It was love at first sight (and I hate cats!). His name comes from the fact that they were drinking Moosehead beer when they found him. We've taught Moose how to fetch and to behave like a dog (I told you I don't like cats...).

My parents are amazing. I owe everything to them. They paid for my schooling, they listen to me when I complain about how much I hate school, they put up with my 1am phone calls, they spoil me rotten and they're my best friends (corny, I know!). I'd be completely lost without them. 

I'm not a great writer and I'm not going to pretend I am. I'm not going to use this blog as a spot for me to rant and rave (although it may happen) and I'm not going to go on and on and on about my deepest emotions (I have my boyfriend for that!). Instead, I'm going to post things that make me happy and things that make me laugh, little anecdotes from my day, youtube videos, pictures... anything that will help me forget about my daily stresses of trying to figure out where my life is going, and especially anything that will help me forget that I'm stuck in Sackville.