Monday, December 31, 2007
Joel and I have decided, in honor of this season of celebrating, of giving and receiving, that we would start feeding our fish again. I know, we're bad people, and we should never get a cat, let alone have children. There. I said it; now you don't have to.
It all started one day when I was walking by the fish tank, and all the fish rushed over to the side to greet me, which is what they do when they're hungry. They're like tiny, scaly puppies. So I went to feed them, but there were no tasty fish flakes. Joel decided that he was sick of having fish anyways, and that we should just let them die.
Weeks went by.
Two full months had passed, with the fish growing bizarrely transparent but never dying. Joel and I left for Sun Peaks, saying 'If they're still alive when we get back, then they're survivors, and we owe it to them to buy some food.'
Sure enough, they were still skulking around the tank when we returned, along with the 8000 progeny of that snail that died ages ago and whom I presume they were eating. So we bought some food and rationed out a bit so that they wouldn't gorge themselves and die (because now that we've spent $3 on a tin of fish food, we want to make sure we have fish around to eat it). The big one turned opaque before my very eyes, but the tiny ones were too dumb to find the flakes. Too dumb to eat = too dumb to live, I always say.
Happy end of 2007.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Our landlords brew their own wine, and its quite delicious. They also make an apple wine, which tastes like what I imagine moonshine tastes like.
It made sports-charades more interesting, at any rate.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Don't we look Jewish? H'anyways, Joel's parents had already given us bruised asses for Christmas, but they threw in stockings (!!!) as well.
I was pumped. Fake tattoos, reindeer unds, a journal with my face on the front, Scrabble fridge magnets, kleenex, socks, gum...I can't even remember it all. Next year I'll take notes. Joel got me a spice rack, as per request, and then this crazy chopper that I used tonight to chop an whole onion in, like, 30 seconds. Also a Tupperware container with segmented parts, because I hate for my food to touch.
What with all the recent additions to both families (me and Mike to the Kruegers, Joel and Gillian to the Pletts), the kids just drew names this year instead of trying to buy gifts for everyone. Bekah got me a wickedawesome Planet Earth interactive DVD game, which Joel and I have a date to play later on tonight, and I will let you know how that goes. On the Krueger side, the gift came with a stipulation: there must be a creative element. You could make a card like Joel did for Mike, write a poem like I did for Tina, make the entire gift yourself like Tina did for Leah, or dress it up as a snowman, as Mike did for me.
What was in the snowman, you ask? This awesomecosy jacket that I wore on our late-evening White-Christmas snow walk.Yes, it is awesome that it snowed. Jane, I can hear you shaking your head, but I've only ever had one white Christmas, and that was the year I was in Europe and that's only because it started snowing in October and never stopped. And I was miserable and cold because I didn't own a jacket. Now I do.
As a side note, gambling seemed to be a pervasive theme, as first Joel, then Matt, and finally Mike received a handful of Scratch-n-Wins.
It kept them quiet for a while, anyways.
So that's my loot, and I'm pleased as punch. And as my gift to you, dear intarwebs, I will try and post more often. I make excuses for myself over the holiday season, but there are those of you out there who have the fortitude to post almost daily. I am not as awesome as you.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
napping (wearing our berfday hoodies and cradling our berfday moccosins if it happened to be our berfday),
and inventing beauty products out of processed meats.
In short, it was the perfect vacation
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
And Then What I Thought of Them
(to be sung to the tune of 'Angels We Have Heard on High)
We went to the theater
I Am Legend was a fright
Will Smith the last man on earth
Zombies hunting in the night
Soooooooolitude and siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilence
Remiiiiiiiiiiiinded me of Caaaaaaaaaaaastaway
Zombies scare me spitless
Willlllllllllllllll Smith is exxxxxxxxxxcellent
In eeeeeeverything he dooooooooes these days
This was no exceeee-eeeeption.
Care group had a movie day
Watched five movies in the den
Fountain was a weird-ass film
I would not see it again
Huuuuuuuuuuuuugh Jackman but nooooooooooooot as Wolverine
I dooooooooon't want anything to dooooooooooo with it
The chronology jumped all around
Theeeeeeeeeeere were bits set iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin the future
And biiiiiiiiits set in histoooooooooooooric times
But there was no fou-ountain.
Superbad was super-crude
But I've never laughed so hard
High school parties, cops and girls
And McLovin's ID card
If yoooooooooooooooou're offended byyyyyyyyyyyy the eff-word
And baaaaaaaaathroom humor and poooooooooootty talk
Maybe don't go see this
But iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit was hilarious and kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind of touching
Besiiiiiiiiiiiiides there was no nuuuuuuuuuuuuudity
So I was okay-ay with it
I am getting sick of this
So I'll just compress the rest
Hot Rod wasn't all that great
SNL not at its best
Staaaaaaaaaardust is suppooooooooooosed to be
The neeeeeeeeeeext Princess Bride but it's nooooooooooot as good
That's lots to live up to
Ameeeeeeeeeeeeerican Gangsters is stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill in theaters
And soooooooooooo we had it illeeeeeeeeeeeegally
And I fell asleep during it.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
The theme of the A-A-A-Team gatherings these days seems to be holiday-appropriate activities. Funsies. So yesterday we (sans Mike, but avec spouses, but sans Paul's wee teething baby) gathered to make ourselves some gingerbread establishments. I was going to try to string these together in some sort of clever story with captions, but blogger posts them all as html tags now, and so I can't see what's what, so I wont (Note: I just figured out what I've been doing wrong, but I'm not going to go back and fix it now). Instead, know this:
Paul and Sylvia made a loverly ski lodge, but the roof started to seperate, and eventually came entirely undone. With a heavy amount of gross fake-icing, they were able to restore their lodge to its former glory. It had a rudolph-head-trophy mounted on the front. Also skiers. With skis. And poles. Bravo. Also, they built an old-fashioned gingershack out of graham crackers.
Joel and I built a gingerbread cave for our gingerbread caveman and gingerbread cavewoman (who, incidentally, had a chocolate baby. I hear the mailman was chocolate...). There are dinosaurs roaming freely, completely ignorant of the new invention (fire) which allows the cavefamily to roast one of their own, rotisserie-style.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Ok, since we last talked:
I've written three exams and a paper.
I've done a fair bit of unnecessary sobbing. I went into Burnaby on Friday to fete my sister (she is now illustriously 23), and she, Darren and I ended up watching an Extreme Makeover Home Edition marathon, with its cancer-children, and its community-minded single black women from the projects whose life-long-dream-homes in somewhere-not-the-projects get flooded and then burnt down and then looted, and Ty's perpetual look of concern (note: you can count how many deserving families Ty has held while they weep by counting his empathy-wrinkles). Also, a friend from school sent me this link. If this Italian-Scottish man-child gently lisping the lyrics 'Grant my last request, just let me hold you' doesn't bring a tear to your eye, then you either have a heart of stone, or you haven't got raging PMS.
I've been uber-crafting. I'm not scrap-booky, but a number of my friends are, and I can Christmas-bake any one of you into the ground (and I don't even have grandkids yet!). So we had a cookie-swap/card-making party, and I swapped three dozen of my best ginger snaps (recipe courtesy of one Marla Bishop) for three dozen other things, including these amazing chocolate-and-skor-bits-sitting-in-a-sugary-paste-spread-on-a-buttery-crust squares that I couldn't stop eating. I was going to post photos of both the cookie collection and the cards, but blogger is doing something...funny...and I can't. So imagine. And if I ever do post the picture of the cards, I won't tell you which design is mine, but it'll be the one with 'holidays' spelled wrong.
I spilled a good-sized splash of coffee on my crotch within the first five minutes of my chem final. The girl next to me just laughed and laughed...
Other than that, I've mostly just been sitting around in my robe, hunched over my textbooks and drinking endless cups of re-used-grounds coffee while my skin turns slowly grey. I have my last exam tomorrow, and my biggest fear is that there'll be a huge snowfall tonight and my exam will get pushed back a day or two, because I'm so psyched to be totally-and-completely done by tomorrow at 5:00.
That's all. Sorry for the long break. I did, to my credit, post on my bookblog during my real-blog haitus. OH YEAH! Speaking of my bookblog, I'm all the rage in Romania. I know you can't read that post, because it's in Romanian, but in short, this blogger (whose gender I haven't been able to determine) is all like 'Should I finish reading Gilead? I mean, it's really boring. Here's a link to another person who thought it was boring [that's where it links to my bookblog], so I think I wont finish it. Probably it'll be boring.' I know. Now I'm famous. AND I got, like, five extra hits on my bookblog that day. Awesome.
Take care, kids. Enjoy your intermittent snows!
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
I got my hand caught in the Kitchen Aide.
Why was my hand in the Kitchen Aide? Because it takes almost three whole seconds to turn it off and lower the bowl, so if you want to add something to what's inside, you either have to be prepared to lose those three seconds, or you have to add while the machine is working. And if what you want to add is something like flour, you can either use a measuring cup and get flour everywhere (because they don't really fit between the machine and the bowl if you haven't turned off the machine and lowered the bowl) or use your hand (because hands fit anywhere). But if 'hand' is the route you chose, you have to be focused and on the ball, because that machine doesn't stop for no one.
So I got my hand crushed against the side of the bowl by the pastry hook, which sounds delicate but isn't, and really all that happened was my middle finger swelled and will turn purple in about a week, long after it's done hurting, and my first two fingers are kind of stiff today, but it could have been waaaay worse. It was one of those moments when you're glad no one is around, because you know that you're not that hurt and that in, like, five minutes, you'll be fine, but it hurts that much that you're nearly in hysterics, and also, you're mad. It's like when you stub your toe: you're in pain, AND you're furious with a table leg.
Also, I hadn't let go of the handful of flour before the whole crushing thing happened, so when I whipped my crumpled fist out of the bowl, flour went everywhere. Also, I lost precious time cradling my hand and whimpering. So...foiled on two counts.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Saturday, December 01, 2007
It's because I let him eat whatever he digs out of there.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Since I ran out of funny stories (on, like, the 3rd), I've resorted to talking about my hair, my classes, my produce purchases, my obsession with smarmy fictional opponents, my computer, a movie I watched, my computer again, my produce purchases again (?), my boots, my eating habits, the weather, and my sister in various capacities, including her longness of hair and her general uselessness.
Alls that to say that I have two papers to write and four finals to study for, so you might not be hearing from me for a few days. That's a lie. I'm totally playing fake-mommy (i.e. babysitting) tomorrow, and I'm definitely going to tell you all about it. And then I'm going to post the kickass paper I'm writing on Frankenstein. Freaky business, people.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
So I did. But because this is my blog, and I never want to look ugly-assed alone, here is a picture of hers. It looks like a dude's.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
...also fake. And tiny.
When do you put up your tree?
We always did it on Thanksgiving, back when Thanksgiving was in late November (read: when we were American). My knee-high guy went up yesterday.
When do you take down your tree?
Never did. That was Mom's job. I guess I'm the woman of the house now, though, and it'll be my responsibility to de-ball the tree and fold it gently back into its box, like a prickly, synthetic child.
Do you like eggnog?
Only if that eggnog is accompanied by Robyn, and rum. Robyn? You, me, rumnogs?
Favorite gift as a child?
This Fisher Price little kitchen with fake food (I got two of the same fake-food set in the same Christmas, so I had, like, eight slices of fake bread to put in my fake toaster).
Do you have a nativity scene?
Not yet. I figure if I add one new element each Christmas, I wont feel like I'm spending arms and legs on decorations.
Hardest person to buy for?
My dad. We've bought him every trinket out of the Mini Cooper store. What now?
Easiest person to buy for?
My sister. I'd link to the thing I want to buy for her this year, except that she reads this blog. Remind me to tell you later.
Worst Christmas gift you've ever received?
Alarm clock. Enough said.
Mail or email Christmas cards?
Definitely mail. Not that I will. Just that I would prefer to have cards mailed to me.
Favorite Christmas movie?
The Grinch. The cartoon one.
When do you start shopping for Christmas gifts?
When I finish my last final.
Have you ever recycled a Christmas gift?
Something I got from a Red Robin gift exchange is making it into the white elephant exchange this year. No real gifts, though.
Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Baking. LOTS of baking.
White or colored lights?
This question is so racist.
Favorite Christmas song?
Oh Holy Night. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall on your kneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees and heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear the angel vooooooooooooooooooooices, oh NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiight deviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. What's not to love?
Travel for Christmas or stay at home?
I would dearly love to spend at least one day at home, in my pajamas. Please let that happen.
Can you name all of Santa's reindeers?
I like that 'reindeers' is pluralized with an 's.' And yes I can name them all, because I have the internets.
Angel or star at the top of the tree?
My mom has a little crow atop hers. I love him. Mine has a star.
Open presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Hmmm. What with this whole married thing, all our traditions are turning on their heads. We always did Christmas morning...get up, have a coffee and a muffin, sit around the tree and watch each person open their gifts, one at a time. Now...I guess we'll see.
Most annoying thing about this time of year?
That everyone can't adjust their schedules to suit me. Because it's all about me, right?
What I love most about Christmas...
How, beforehand you think you're so busy, and then all the preparations are done and it's just a lot of sitting around and visiting and eating and visiting some more and napping on the couch because you have nothing pressing to do.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Part of what we like about Darren is that when I say 'help us set up,' I mean 'help my mom set up so that my sister and I can run around like idiots.'
Darren working. Bekah not working.
Darren still working. Me not working.
Darren pausing to show off his work. Bekah continuing to not work.
Darren subtly working. Me overtly not working.
Mom joining in because she realizes that only one of the three is working. Bekah not working.
Mom noticing Bekah not working. We call that the 'hairy eyeball,' folks.
Me supervising while mom works.
Darren working. Bekah not doing a single thing to validate her presence in this picture, but needing to be in it anyways.Me also in a picture that I have no business being in. Darren continues to work.
And the moral of the story is...tall = usefull. Also, I like gingersnaps.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Is that rain, that heavy mist you see falling? NO! Allow me to clarify for those of you not living in the beautiful Fraser Valley....
It is snow!!! Big fat flakes of snow!!! And it's sticking, and with any luck it'll snow four feet overnight, and when I wake up tomorrow, I won't have to go to class because it will have snowed too much for me to WALK THE SIX BLOCKS TO SCHOOL!!!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Things that I grazed while paper-writing at my parents' house today:
- a bowl of expensive luxury cereal
- several string cheeses
- most of a bag of all-dressed ripple chips
- a bag of dry, tasteless 100-calorie popcorn
- a bag of salty, delicious jalepeno-flavored popcorn
- a handful of chocolate-covered almonds
- a cup of expensive luxury coffee
- a small mountain of real fruit gummies
- a larger mountain of wine gums
- a hunk of a Lindt chocolate bar
- several gummi frogs (made with real fruit juice)
- a Christmas orange I found on the porch
- a tums
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
At any rate, some time in the last five years, I saw 'Failure to Launch' on a plane. I forget the exact premise...something about this guy who needs a girlfriend so his parents hire that girl from Sex in the City to lure him out of his bachelorhood, and she's outlining her plan to someone and it goes along the lines of '...bla bla bla, and then I let him teach me something, bla bla bla' because guys like to teach girls things, and letting them do so makes them feel more competent and manly.
Joel likes to teach me things, and is forever explaining scientific concepts to me. I actually mostly like it, because I am a nerd, and because, in return, he lets me expand his vocabulary for him. By the time we have grandkids, I will be a mad scientist, and he will be a thesaurus. It will be awesome.
However, if it isn't your husband or boyfriend or four-year-old nephew or a guy whose parents have hired you to seduce him, this trait is more irritating than fun. So this guy today tries to explain to me what is wrong with my laptop screen, based on what he has observed from a distance (i.e. the screen does not work). The hell do I care what is wrong with the screen? I'm not going to let him try to fix it. I'm not going to fix it. Why are we having this conversation, and why don't I have any chips, because really, that's the relevant issue here.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
So, we have these two computers, see? But one of them, it's not a real computer. It's just a desktop monitor hooked up to my laptop, because the screen on my laptop is kaput. So I have to sit on the ground, with my laptop in my lap, and look up and to my left at the monitor, which is on a low table. This is hard on my neck.
Joel usually works on the desktop (the one without the laptop attached to it), but when he's not, I like to email my assignment and all relevant notes to myself, and then move to the desktop and check my email and then work there until Joel comes back, and I have to switch back to the laptop/monitor/neck-hurter. This results in me having several copies of any given assignment, all in various stages of process, and all named the same thing because I'm too dumb to, like, number them or something.
So the other day, I emailed myself the paper, and then headed over to the desktop and instead of 'Open this file' which I usually do, resulting in a new copy of said paper, I just saved it over the older copy on the desktop. Turns out, I had mailed the wrong copy to myself, and saved an older copy over a newer copy, losing several hours worth of strenuous work.
And no, the newer copy wasn't still on my laptop and I don't know how that happened and don't ask me these things, I'm a dolt. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a midterm in three hours.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
If you want to know how my assignments are coming, they're lousy. I just lost three pages because I am an idiot, and I don't really care to explain how, because now I have to go rewrite them.
If you want to know how many brain cells I have, you can come count them. They're lying in a puddle on the floor beside me.
If you want to know anything else, you'll have to wait until I'm done tearing out my hair.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Anyway, there's this one sweet older couple (older as in '...than the early-twenties rugby players') and they're always cradling each other and looking to each other for support and whatall, and then there's an avalanche and the woman dies and the man is heartbroken. At this point, Joel turns to me and says, 'If I'm ever plane-crashed into the Andes, I hope you're not there.' He paused, and I waited for something along the lines of how he would want to know that I was home safe, or that he wouldn't want me to suffer like that, or how at least then someone would be able to care for our children, or something, but no. 'You're an icicle,' he says. 'You would forever be putting your cold feet on me.'
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Since I was in town, Bekah and I had a sister-day. We both have major assignments to do, but some things are more important than schoolwork. Like hair. Remember how I had long hair, that one time?
Well, my sister had long hair, too.
It was nuts, really. And kind of ratty at the top, because it was too long for brushing. And what does one do with long hair? One cuts it off.
Choppy choppy! I was there, of course, for moral support. And to document it on film. And to suggest that she keep the straggly ends (she vetoed).
Now she looks fabulous. See? How cute.
Now, one does not public transit one's way all the way downtown unless one has errands (multiple) to run. I have been tromping to and from school in my summer shoes for the past few months, in the rain, running the risk of pneumonia, all because I refuse to wear real, sock-friendly shoes. I will, however, wear moonboots. My sister has a pair of moonboots that I've coveted for ages, but the Army and Navy only had them in a size six, which I am not. Instead, I got these rockawesome bad boys.
Business on the bottom, skinned-muppet on the top. I know, they make my calves look monstrous, but I couldn't tuck my pant-leg all the way in, because they were soaked around the ankle, and I wanted to wear them immediately. My feet were wet and cold, and so as soon as we got to the bus stop, I handed the umbrella to my sister and proceeded to change shoes on the street. Except that after I dragged my ski-sock onto my soggy foot, I realized that the boots were still attached to each other, and by an elastic thing, not a thing you could snap with your hands, so I had to hop around on the one foot while I rummaged in my purse for my keys and tried not to put that foot on the puddly ground and tried to stay under the umbrella, and then when I got the boots apart, I had to wring out my jean-bottoms because they were too soaked to even think about putting them in shoes, and I was bent over trying to lace and tie up my boot and my fingers kept getting stuck in the fur, and my sister would reach over and try to pull my shirt over my exposed crack without dropping the umbrella and my purse, and then my second boot fell over and the fur on one side got soaked and matted, and the bus was due to come any second, and I was convinced it would roaring around the corner just as I was be-socked and unshod, but I got both boots on and the laces jammed into the tops for later tying, and we were asked by a man in a wheelchair if we liked art, and if we wanted our pictures drawn, and if we had any paper he could draw us on (because he didn't), and did we have any spare change, all before the bus came. Whew.
So now, with our similar hair-lengths, and our matching moonboots, we look like sisters, no?
And that is the story of what I did today. Also, we put a scarf on the dog.
And my brother fell asleep while checking his watch.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Let the Eating-of-Whole-Delicious-Boxes-by-Myself-in-the-Six-Days-Before-They-Go-Bad-Because-Joel-Doesn't-Eat-Citrus-or-Even-Fruit-Really commence!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I'm not even going to play it up for you. I keep trying to describe it to people, but you all know how that goes. You have to go and see it, and then you have to find other people who have seen it (you can come talk to me), and then you have to talk about how you nearly killed yourself laughing, and then one of you has to say 'He's appointed himself judge, jury and executioner' so that the other one of you can say 'But he's NOT Judge Judy and executioner!' and then you will both laugh. I hope I haven't ruined that one line for you. Please go watch this before I ruin the part where the one lady hits the other lady in the face with a wet-floor sign. Like, right in the teeth.