By staff writer E.E. Southerby
Volume 9 – November 10, 2002
-Last Saturday night, it finally happened. People ran out of money. Last weekend we had no alcohol, no drugs, no women. It was just completely dry. One of my friends suggested we give up on looking for a party and just go home to study. So I did something I'm not proud of. Yes, that's right: I robbed him and went to buy drugs and alcohol and women. I felt really bad about it, but it was quite a party.
-Because I'm a philanthropist, I let people come over to my house to do their laundry, so that they don't have to pay at the laundromat. I think people are starting to take unfair advantage of my generous offer. Can't they at least use their own detergent? And while they're at it, if they could stop stealing my roommates' thongs it would be greatly appreciated.
-I went to a club by myself. It was a Tuesday and nobody else wanted to go, and ordinarily I'd just cave in and stay home but I was feeling adventurous so I went out all by my lonesome. Believe it or not, I actually had a pretty good time. I mean, it's not like you ever hang out with your friends at a club. You always ditch them so you can hook up. So I don't see why going by yourself is such a big deal, but it is. So everytime some stranger I was dancing with would ask me who I was there with I'd always play dumb and look around and say: “My friends…they're around here somewhere. Or maybe they just left. You just missed them.” I don't know what's sadder: The fact that I bring imaginary friends into a dance club or the idea that this imaginary friend has the same personality as Polkaroo.
-I apologize in advance to any readers who are not from Ontario and have never seen The Polka-Dot Door, and thus did not get the Polkaroo reference. Trust me, it's funny. Look it up.
-When I went to the club by my lonesome, I kept trying to dance with this one girl and she wasn't having it. I wouldn't have minded if she hadn't been making out with every single other guy there. But I let it go, not wanting to start a scene or anything. Afterwards, when we left, she was being inexplicably nice to me. She kept saying things like “you danced great out there” (which is a lie) and “I'm sorry I didn't dance with you, I'm REALLY drunk” (which is true, except for the part about her being sorry). It's really weird when you resent someone for being nice to you.
-The upcoming week is Reading Week at the University, so named because absolutely no reading gets done. It's really just Spring Break in the fall, except instead of going down to Daytona Beach or Acapulco and partying I'm going home to rake leaves in my mom's yard. My trip is just as expensive, and almost as fun.
-Quote of the Moment: One of my roommates after finding out I was going home for Reading Week: “I probably won't notice. Can I take your food?” Apparently, I don't spend enough time at the house. I'm only there to sleep, eat, and steal their underwear.
-Before I decided to go home for Reading Week, I had 3 offers to go and stay with people for free in Vancouver and the surrounding areas. But I declined, so I could travel 5000 km and see my friends and family, neither who want to see me very much at all. These are the kinds of irrational decisions you make when you're high. At least that's the excuse I'll use in court.
-This is how responsible I am: I knew I was going to miss a day of class to go home for ‘Reading Week', so I went and saw my professors in advance to tell them. I have a paper due on the day I'm going to miss, so I asked the professor if I could email or fax it in, or maybe just hand it in the day after. She said no to all 3 options, and that if I don't come to class on the day that I'm away then I get a zero. Power trip much? I hope she enjoys her reading week… in HELL!
-Now playing: “Thin Line” by the Jurassic Five w/ Nelly Furtado. If there's one thing I respect more than irrational professors it's underground hip-hop bands who form duets with Canadian bubblegum pop singers. The worst part is that their selling out actually formed one hell of a song.
-I think of airplanes as mini-dating services. I figure as long as you're going to be strapped inside a pressurized vacuum tube for 8 hours you might as well try to pick up. Every time I get on an airplane I cross my fingers and hope to God that the person who sits beside me will be “hot girl”. It never is, though. It's always “screaming infant” or “angry middle-aged dude”. And believe me, neither of those are easy to pick up.
-Have you ever tried to make small talk with flight attendants? They have to be the most insipid people on earth. One flight attendant actually asked me where I was headed. WHERE AM I HEADED? I'm on the same plane as she is, and it had better be going to Ottawa.
-It's weird coming home after you've been gone away to school for a few months. Chances are, your room has been preserved for you just the way you left it, except that all your trophies are on display on your desk like some weird tribute. I felt as though I had died. I half-expected to see a picture of me on my bed surrounded by candles, and a newspaper clipping of my obituary pinned to my wall. Good thing the cost alone of an obituary makes the idea prohibitive.
-Weird aspect of visiting back home: Nobody's ever as happy to see you as you wish they were. I often find myself wanting to say “yeah, I didn't really miss you either.”
-I had gotten so used to walking and taking the bus everywhere I forgot what it's like taking a car. Nothing screams ‘cool' like having your mom drive you to a nightclub. The only thing worse than having your mom drop you off at a nightclub is having her come pick you up afterwards, when you're drunk and you're making out with some random girl. Ah, Ottawa, how I've missed you.
-I forgot that everyone smokes in Ontario (alright, I didn't forget, I suppressed). It took less than an hour after touching ground in Ottawa that someone asked me if I have an “extra” cigarette. I don't smoke, but I said ‘yes' anyway. Then they asked if I could have it, and I said ‘no'. At eight bucks a pack I ain't sharing.
-So I went to my friend's residence at Carleton University, and I noticed that the people there are actually way less friendly than at my school. My friend went to introduce me to his residence-mates, and they just gave me cold stares and then walked the other way. This kind of crap doesn't happen at UVic, mark my words. I really should have given them a cigarette when they had asked for one.
-I forgot that tomorrow's Remembrance Day. I'm a bad, ironic person.