Just call me violent and free.
Ahhh. The mount.
So yesterday i'm sitting in the hallway, trying to look occupied as i'm waiting for class while stupid Toronto girls with $100 sweat pants are trampling me and I see this dude. Anyways, the mount is definately not known for its fashion sense. So yea, across from me is this guy with [passable] shoes, plugs, and definately does not exceed 140 pounds. Oh yea, and a foamy hat. So I smiled a little smile and was happy because I thought "for onCE!!! someone got it right". Then I saw that his hat said "Booty Hunter". Anyways, it made me sooooo mad! I just want to know what's going on in that booty hunter brain of his: "if I wear a hat that says I hunt asses all my profs will give me a's, or girls will bend over to let me 'hunt' their bootys" (whatever 'hunt' means). Anyways, I asked Willis about his opinion about an 18-25 year old guy wearing a hat like that and he responded with "well i don't think boobs and butts ever go out of style" (he actually said "ever get old" but i added "style" for extra flavour). Girls poop out of there. I don't know, the whole thing just bugged me. And boory hunter, I hope you're reading this.
ANYWAYS. Last night Kathy, Christy and I went to see The Microphones. It was fabulous. The girl was so cute and funny and she reminded me of a combination between Bjork and Julie Doirion. I walked to Stage Nine for open mic night but didn't end up staying long. The band playing was runing my life with their edgy antics and in-door-sunglasses-wearing. We ditched that shit and ended up smoking cigerettes on the patio. That was nice. Kathy and I cabbed back to her house and I drove home. But I took a slight detour: MacDonald's. I loaded up on the acne greasiest, cheesecake yummiest and monster truck biggest bucket of fries ever. And they totally hit the spot, even though I felt ashamed eating them. There is something about eating mc d's alone that seems not right, malicious even, sort of like watching Canadian Idol alone. It's like you need someone there to tell you it's okay. I think the grossest part about my Mcd's splurge was that I ate the fries in bed (yea, worse than you thought). Anyways, I was so tired after cramming them down my throat that I was too tired to get up and put the debrit and garbage in my garbage can. Anyways, I just flung the nasty bad of fries and ketchup and mayo across the room. When I woke up (10 hours later), my room smelled like a fast food joint.
Actually, it kind of reminded me of this one time when I hadn't brushed my teeth in a few days. Andrew came into my room one morning and wrinkled his nose: "Sarah! what is that smell...? it's like....it's like.....garbage!". His face was pathetic, it seriously looked like someone had thrown up on him; he was that overidden with disgust. Anyways, as he manouvered closer to my bed he annouced: "Woah! it's REALLY strong over here!". It was my breath. It made my whole room smell like garbage. I didn't realize stomach enzymes or whatever had that power. It kind of made me feel triumphant. That story is really gross. I probably shouldn't have put it here. I just drank too much coffee.
Yesterday I bought a mug that feels like silk. Seriously, you have to feel this mug. I went to Chapters and tried to ask an employee about ordering a book but she didn't like that too much--she ended up fighting with Erin and I throughout the whole conversation. Needless to say, we didn't get the books we were looking for. We went to Value Village and I purchased a trio of pure gold: Flashdance soundtrack, Footloose soundtrack and The Bangles, all on vinyl. So hot in Europe right now.
What do you guys think of those old school Nike high tops? I'm quite tempted to buy a pair. I think they are neat-o.
Jen and I have been playing phone tag for three days now. We need to go aparment hunting. It can't be done over the phone.
Ahhh. The mount.
So yesterday i'm sitting in the hallway, trying to look occupied as i'm waiting for class while stupid Toronto girls with $100 sweat pants are trampling me and I see this dude. Anyways, the mount is definately not known for its fashion sense. So yea, across from me is this guy with [passable] shoes, plugs, and definately does not exceed 140 pounds. Oh yea, and a foamy hat. So I smiled a little smile and was happy because I thought "for onCE!!! someone got it right". Then I saw that his hat said "Booty Hunter". Anyways, it made me sooooo mad! I just want to know what's going on in that booty hunter brain of his: "if I wear a hat that says I hunt asses all my profs will give me a's, or girls will bend over to let me 'hunt' their bootys" (whatever 'hunt' means). Anyways, I asked Willis about his opinion about an 18-25 year old guy wearing a hat like that and he responded with "well i don't think boobs and butts ever go out of style" (he actually said "ever get old" but i added "style" for extra flavour). Girls poop out of there. I don't know, the whole thing just bugged me. And boory hunter, I hope you're reading this.
ANYWAYS. Last night Kathy, Christy and I went to see The Microphones. It was fabulous. The girl was so cute and funny and she reminded me of a combination between Bjork and Julie Doirion. I walked to Stage Nine for open mic night but didn't end up staying long. The band playing was runing my life with their edgy antics and in-door-sunglasses-wearing. We ditched that shit and ended up smoking cigerettes on the patio. That was nice. Kathy and I cabbed back to her house and I drove home. But I took a slight detour: MacDonald's. I loaded up on the acne greasiest, cheesecake yummiest and monster truck biggest bucket of fries ever. And they totally hit the spot, even though I felt ashamed eating them. There is something about eating mc d's alone that seems not right, malicious even, sort of like watching Canadian Idol alone. It's like you need someone there to tell you it's okay. I think the grossest part about my Mcd's splurge was that I ate the fries in bed (yea, worse than you thought). Anyways, I was so tired after cramming them down my throat that I was too tired to get up and put the debrit and garbage in my garbage can. Anyways, I just flung the nasty bad of fries and ketchup and mayo across the room. When I woke up (10 hours later), my room smelled like a fast food joint.
Actually, it kind of reminded me of this one time when I hadn't brushed my teeth in a few days. Andrew came into my room one morning and wrinkled his nose: "Sarah! what is that smell...? it's like....it's like.....garbage!". His face was pathetic, it seriously looked like someone had thrown up on him; he was that overidden with disgust. Anyways, as he manouvered closer to my bed he annouced: "Woah! it's REALLY strong over here!". It was my breath. It made my whole room smell like garbage. I didn't realize stomach enzymes or whatever had that power. It kind of made me feel triumphant. That story is really gross. I probably shouldn't have put it here. I just drank too much coffee.
Yesterday I bought a mug that feels like silk. Seriously, you have to feel this mug. I went to Chapters and tried to ask an employee about ordering a book but she didn't like that too much--she ended up fighting with Erin and I throughout the whole conversation. Needless to say, we didn't get the books we were looking for. We went to Value Village and I purchased a trio of pure gold: Flashdance soundtrack, Footloose soundtrack and The Bangles, all on vinyl. So hot in Europe right now.
What do you guys think of those old school Nike high tops? I'm quite tempted to buy a pair. I think they are neat-o.
Jen and I have been playing phone tag for three days now. We need to go aparment hunting. It can't be done over the phone.
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