In Australia, Lost has always been aired by free-to-air station Channel 7. It has always aired at Thursdays 8:30 pm. Australia is usually about six episodes behind the United States, but as of mid-Season 3, is nine episodes behind, which was due to a two-week hiatus over the Easter break

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!@??!?!?!?!?

A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of hell -George Bernard Shaw

The pub has been pretty slow on Saturday nights lately, which is too bad because for some reason I've been scheduled for almost all of them.
Another redundant night, with only a few tables ordering sparsely. I was more so watching the band, than actually doing anything. Same old same.
There was this one gentleman, he was playing pool with some friends and stuck around after they left to watch the band. He was quiet and slowly sipped the few stretched out pints he purchased from the bartender. The older man worked his way to sitting at the bar, talking with the regulars about typical things- even bonding a little.
When i covered the bar for a few minutes he talked to me about how 'working the same old shit everyday sucks but you gotta do it' and then mumbled off into a rant, like most do. I showed an awkward, pursed smile and made myself busy with something silly.

It was almost closing time, only a few drinkers and DD's left, I had put up all of the heavy and awkward chairs. Waiting around until the customers downed that drop and i could snatch the glass out of their cupped hands.
Older man had been quiet for the past 15- 20 minutes, 'must be tired, he's been here a while'. So, I wipe off the spilt beer and put up the last of the chairs. As I drop off a dirty glass at the bar I catch the sound of falling beer, but it's not followed by a shattered glass. ' Where is that coming from?'. I look at Irish Guy ( he's a regular, young, on working visa) and the other regular staring at the old guy with a face of disgust and surprise. Then I hear it. That puking/coughing/dying noise.
Old guy has his arm on the bar, head on his arm and puking pouring out of his mouth like a broken faucet. I stare for a few seconds, thinking he's going to stop...or leave...or atleast GET UP. He doesn't. He's projectile vomiting. I run to the back yelling for the bartender 'cause I have noooo idea what to do, I'm not going near him. I go back out to the bar to see if she's there, and he's still making that horrible noise, and still barfing on the wood ledge and floor. I'm getting pretty angry now, so i run to the back yelling ' Theresa, some guy is fucking puking on the floor!'.
I come out a second time, and guess what? STILL, puking. STILL, making the dying sound. STILL, not making any effort to get up and save us the disgusting fact that we're going to have to clean it up. I'm staring at him, giving the death stare and tearing back my temple in an attempt not to ask if he's freaking kidding me.
I thought the bartender, who is middle aged, tough, and striking, was going to tell him to get the fuck out. But she was really kind, probably realizing this was extremely embaressing, and tried to get him outside and into a cab. He stopped puking, I didn't think it was possible, wiped his face and managed to walk to the end of the bar almost at the door.
She calls a cab, I finish my closing duties. And then i hear it, again. Beer falling on the floor, and that god damned sound. I was pissed now, I wanted to scream ' get the fuck out'. He was obviously coherent enough to stand and walk, why the hell wasn't he walking outside?!

I was so angry when it was all over, thank freaking god I didn't have to clean it up. Bartender barely did, it was only beer after all. But it still smelt pretty rancid.
On the drive home, when i told groggy Josh this story I must have used the word 'fuck' more than 25 times. Fuuuckk!

Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end. Jack Kerouac

( Great Ocean Road or "surf coast highway" on the South Eastern Coast)

February 3rd I'm leaving for Australia.

I'm so anxious, but at the same time i have all these fears- mostly about the airport and getting lost or loosing my luggage and a million other things.
I handed in my application yesterday and I already have all the paperwork, through e-mail, that i'm dreading filling out. It's all so exciting and the more i get done, the more final it all feels.
I'm going when its the end of summer, all of fall, and a little bit of winter.
I've been doing some research about spiders there ( I have a strong case of a arachnophobia ), they're huge and e v e r y w h e r e, many are very poisonous. Look at the description of a Sydney-Funnel-Web Spider
Venom toxicity - the Sydney Funnel-Web Spider is one of the world's most deadly spiders. Both the male and female carry atraxotoxin, one of the world's most dangerous toxins. The Blue Mountains Funnel-Web and Northern Tree Funnel-Web Spiders are also highly venomous.

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Danger time - the mature male funnel-web spider will wander around during hot humid nights, looking for a mate, and is known to enter homes, footwear, clothing, washing and swimming pools where they can survive several days under water. It is highly aggressive when disturbed or cornered and is able to inflict multiple bites, with its "flick-knife" hardened fangs. People also find funnel-web spiders wandering around the garden or in the home after heavy rain or nearby earthworks. An anti-venom is available in most major hospitals and ambulance vehicles.
Area of distribution - the Sydney Funnel-Web Spider is a ground dweller in moist soil areas along much of the eastern coastal area of New South Wales and Victoria.

What's even worse....google what that looks like!!!
I'm buying boots and wearing them all the time.... The other spiders sound horrible too. I'll have to suck it up.

Looking at Hostels, I have this image of just a tiny room with a bunk thrown in suck in my mind as what a Hostel is. But the ones I've been looking at online almost seem like hotels, but less than half the price, with some meals included.

I've still got 6 weeks to go, so I should try and distract myself with other things or else I'll go insane:)

A woman is never sexier than when she is comfortable in her clothes. Vera Wang

A few days ago I made this pencil skirt, from scratch, from some left over material I had. I have some Christmas parties/dinners and I didn't want to wear the same dress, which i got a huge deal on, to all of them. So here it is; along with my ha-larious attempt to look vogue.

I bought these pearls in grade 9 at a thrift store :)


I obviously played with this picture, I think it is the only one wear i'm actually full-out smiling. So it needed some adjustments.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before, What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.

A week until Christmas; is that at all it is? When you're not in school, it seems like days race by and before you know it you're calendar is filled with X's. I'm trying to cherish all the time I have not worrying about deadlines and tests, essays and exams. I haven't had that feeling since last year, and nothing could make me go back to that horrible place called High School. I just can't fathom why anyone would choose to go back for another year?! There are a few things I miss about school, but a many more dominating things I would never go back to.
Standing at the bus stop in the morning is any easy thing to complain about, especially in the winter when the bus made a habbit of being late. But I loved the bus ride when I had my cd player ( not mp3 player ) and coffee/tea in my tumbler mug. Big D or Streetlight coming through my ears and escaping through my pounding feet, resisting the urge to sing. It was such a comfortable feeling, especially in the winter; over dressed and internally warm due to the hand-held caffeine. A synchronized arm lift when the bus braked-hard or took a sudden turn by all the mug holders, like a reflex. I laughed inside almost every time. The same tired faces, and bouquet of freshly applied perfumes and carry on breakfasts.
And then there are those damned morning people, what the fuck is wrong with them? It didn't bother me, unless I forgot my headphones...or worse, my coffee. It's 8:00, I don't want to listen to you talk to your fake-bus friends about you partying so hard and 'telling your parents off' last night, when in reality we all know that you sat and home and got high while you watched friends, alone.
I'm not a fan of my age group. Headphones and coffee were necessities on the SMH special, and when you had them the ride could be pretty enjoyable.

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. - Picasso

This is my Godson Tristan. He's 9 months old but look so much bigger, he's so cute I have to hold myself back from biting off his cheeks.
Josh loves him
haha

His mom/ my 'sister'


You can tell his mom takes a lot of pictures of him, because as soon as that camera whips out he's modelling his cute diaper bum.

Sleep is a symptom of caffeine deprivation. ~Author Unknown

My typical opinions are cynical and often irritating, siobhan says i'm always trying to 'make a statement', I don't disagree. I think it must be utterly boring being a wallflower, and although my natural behavior is to be shy, i am really opinionated and cannot imagine keeping my cracked lips shut whilst listening to someone praise things that go against my moral fiber ( i like using that word lately).
there's a cat in my greasy, funky hair. I usually don't like cats, but i must say i enjoy when they admit they enjoy your touch; the way they uncontrollably purrrrr rrrr rrrr and dig their claws into the furniture when they're truly excited. They're not soo bad, but not as good as dogs<3.
ANYWAYS. Back to my hesitated admittance of happiness. A good portion of the time I'm negative, I'm the girl that doesn't hold the door open for the lagging elders ( no i'm not, but i think about it....). Things in my life, for the past few years have been a bit difficult and definitaely not leave-it-to-fucking-beaver, not like i would want to it to be - but you get the point. Lately they have been getting tougher. I have a few great friends I can turn to for answers, coaxing, and a much-needed shove. The best way I can say this is to use a quote though, "I need to feel the weight of a man on me" Carrie.
I am pretty fucking sure if I didn't have Josh to just, literally be there when I ached, I would seriously be going insane. And admitting that makes me feel weak and vulnerable, but also so grateful that we're together. It's not uncommon for the highlight of my day to slip into sleep onto his warm body, and i'm more than fine with that. I crave it. And the idea of his weight on top of me. Josh is my decadent escape from the sometimes bitter world.
but...
Whenever I hear someone talk about their 'lovelife' i feel like they're trying to rub it in my face, like they're trying to prove how pure their love it. So I'll shut up cause I'm sure we've passed a few eye-rolls already. Yes? haha

As I have been hinting at, things in the real world have been a bit difficult and I have felt sluggish at work. I hit points where I doubt the possibility of reaching across the room on my legs. Most of my dreams have been about work and difficult customers, I'm seriously lacking on my sex and travel dreams.
But the time it takes me to fall sleep has fallen back into normal, but there are those exceptions of nights when I think of something minuscule and get over-excited about it; hello 1 hour later.
I'm excited for sleep just thinking about snuggling in under the blankets...mmm- God, i hate winter.

Take me, I am the drug; take me, I am hallucinogenic. - Dali

I really do not feel well these past couple of days. Shakey and out of energy, like i have weights attached to my hips and thighs. All of my dreams last night were about work, and i'd say a good chunk of them were about me passing out, puking, or getting a huge pimpley throat infection at work. This morning i woke up all phlegm-y and sore.
I'm working fairly often the next week or so. Even though after a few hours i'm just dragging my ass. I had an old grade-school bully come in, and then attempt to leave without paying the bill. Luckily my trusty bouncer literally CHASED their asses and made them pay, and tip me. It was an eventful night, that's for sure.
Diana is going to Columbia for a month, starting today- jealous.
Rachel is coming back from Nova Scotia in two days, which i'm very excited for our ranting and sappy movie time.
Other Rachel is done school in a few days and we'll probably rant and do crafts with snacks.

Too bad I really, really need another job and I'm kicking myself for only having a part-time job for 3 months now...fuckkk. I really wish people would just be happy with quality time for Christmas...no?
sneeze sneeze sneeze, eye twitch, sneeze.

I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? Alice in Wonderland

I used to love nights in my parents room. On the nights when they actually wanted to sleep comfortably, i would fall asleep outside of their door hoping that the next time i woke up i would be between them. Two big windows slightly opened to create a crisp breeze, snuggled and tight under the big duvet. My dad would trick me into playing toy-cars on his back, as his movements dulled and the snores rolled in. My mom, rolling and smacking. But the best part was the light show; strange square shapes growing and dying on the walls like a lost slideshow. The night traffic drifting past with their swooshing and humming as they creep down the asphalt. It was relaxing, it was therapeutic. I miss being that comfortable and feeling that security.

Things have gotten so crazy, I am Alice in Wonderland. I feel so niave, everyone is giving me all these answer's but they still don't seem to make sense. I'm being tossed in all these insane environments and all i can do is ask questions instead of get anything accomplished. I'm sure of very few things these days. and i'm hoping when i wake up that will change.
I'm very excited for Christmas however, even though i think the ' holiday of giving' is a huge laugh and is what people fool themselves into thinking their not consumers and slaves to brands. I don't think there is anything more repulsive than parents that spoil their children.
I've always, since i can remember, loved Christmas because of visiting family and the big family dinners. Oh and who can forget the classic movies...sigh.

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to - John Ed Pearce

I'm so homesick. I lye in bed constantly thinking of new ways we might have been able to keep the house. Ways we could get it back. What ifs, what ifs, what ifs.
I lived in that house for twelve years! I've grown with that house. I've had all of my bestfriends and boyfriends sleep(shh) in there at one time. I've probably crashed into every single corner, and cried in every single room. I can remember exactly how everything looks, to the pieces of wallpaper missing and the history of our furniture. I became a part of the carpet and the paint, I was so deeply rooted in that house I'm sure you'd find flakes of my soul carved into the drywall.
Whenever I think about my home it feels like my heart is actually aching, my core starts to burn and i feel like i'm chocking. I miss the sound of waking up and taking the few small weary steps to my bathroom in the morning- I would smell brewing coffee, hear the far-away radio, and my parents chatting in their pajamas in my living room. That early-day experience always made me feel so comfortable and happy.
It's not only my house, it's where Bailey grew up too. He loved all the space he had to free range in our beautiful, rare backyard. In the winter he would run laps around the pool and bite at the snow. My parents loved our house too, and I can't imagine how hard it is for them to be where we are now- they especially loved our backyard too; their haven. It's impossible to read my brother but he must miss our home, we used to spend hours playing with legos in his room and i can still hear the sound of him raking through legos to find a particular one. We were a family in that house. I feel like now we're living in a hotel, and i'm hopeful we can go home soon.
I could list off thousands of things I miss, and thousands of things I remember perfectly about the house. It does me no good, i'm never going to get to go back and being as happy and comfortable as we were. No matter how much I dream about it ( at least once a week), or the many things I would give up just go home- i can't seem to let myself realize that I'm never going back! All i can do is lay in bed and walk through the house in my head, fighting back tears and sniffles so Josh doesn't here me and I don't feel more silly.

'Cuz nobody owns anything and everyone is free -Jack Johnson

I made a pledge this summer that I was only going to give and receive handmade gifts from now on ( because i am disgusted, as im sure many of you are, at how Christmas has become a consumer crazy holiday and depresses me). Anywhooo, my two best friends birthday are only days apart and I went to Michaels and picked up some supplies and made these two things for them!


I just bought a regular wooden mirror and paper mached some neat-design paper on it. Then i traced the mirror onto black construction paper and free-hand stenciled some leaf/flora/nature patterns. Then i glued the stencil ontop and used electrical tape to cover up any poking paper or wood!



Carpe Diem insperational cork board. I used the same patterned paper and glued it on the cork. Then i drew little pictures that remind me of my friend. I chose the phrase Carpe Diem and the two quotes on there:
Serious trouble beats serious boredom - dangerous lives of the alter boys
Let us so live that when we come to die even the under taker will be sorry - Mark Twain
Because my friend is in University right now and i feel like she's always so busy with school and work, and this is just a reminder to do something memorable and fantastic each day.
I went to my local Home Hardware and picked up some carpenter tacks ( theyre longer and stonger) with a cool design.
( oh and i know the paper is uneven, i added ribbon to the boarder afterwards)

Marriage: A word which should be pronounced "mirage." -Herbert Spencer

" Doesn't playing with Tristan make you want to have kids?" Normally you would expect this conversation to be initiated by a female. But no, Josh asked me this as we were driving around town in the frantic-windshield-wiper rain.

See, I'm not one of those young women planning and stressing over my future wedding, not down to the final detail, or even where i want to have it. I really don't care. I don't fantasize about kids and who they'll look like, and what they'll aspire to be. Or what kind of family dog we'll have...actually, that's half true- my future definitely includes a dog ( or few ). Although I am tired of the general world saying things like ' when you have kids, and when you get married'...it's like my life is this pre-planned event, and this perfect family-of-four life has been shoved down my throat since i can remember;
Some girls, and boys, played house with their dolls and stuffed animals as their well behaved and always beautiful children. I'll admit I did that on occasion, but my favorite make-believe game as a child was ; bitchy business women going to work,cooking, and hanging out with my cool friends. I even remember slamming the 'coffee maker' in my play kitchen and YELLING at my 'employee' on the 'phone,' hanging up and 'driving' ( my car was a minny mouse chair) downtown. I was seven years old and on Sex and the City.I got bored with the family, happy mommy scene quickly as a kid. Oh and then there's the amazing invention of legos, but that's a whole nother story.

Today, if you haven't caught on, I think marriage is a joke. I think a lot of the time the woman wants to get married so she can have a selfish 'look at me' day where everyone showers her in meaningless congratulations and expensive gifts, and the husband does it so he can continue to have sex on a regular basis, so he thinks. Marriage is an outdated tradition, that clearly isn't working if you take a look at stats. I mean, what's the freaking point?
I'm not going to be completely bitter, because sometimes marriages are real and you can tell at the wedding that the couple does mean the vows they're repeating ( repetition, so romantic <3). style="font-style: italic;">I'll never get married, but right now it's not for me.

But back to Josh. My respond obviously was a cynical rant about how horrible marriages can be and kids aren't for everyone, much like this blog entry. But after a few seconds I told him something I wasn't sure I wanted to say to him because it is so cheesy and it was so honest, i said " But besides all that, when i see you play with Tristan, and how utterly amazing and natural you are, you force me to question that decision."

and then I changed the subject

One kind word can warm three winter months. Japanese Proverb

Thursday was a bit of a disaster.

If you could tell from the previous post me and my mother got in a fight. There are many things i let her get away with, but to call me selfish just set off fireworks inside me, that burned their way up my throat, and shot at her. I keep so much inside of me that when i get a chance to tell her how i really feel I choke and can't remember why I think she's such a terrible mother. She had no counterpoints, like usual.
Because of this very unusual conversation of truth, obviously catching me off guard, I was late meeting Diana at the mall. There was no way I was going to ask for a ride, so I walked. Slushy rain started to pour on my unprepared self as I cursed and kicked the bated flurries. When we paired and reached the coffee shop I reached in my backpack for the 20 bucks, I half-regretted grabbing in the first place, to surface with only lint and an expression of 'for fuck sakes'.

(old picture from when my hair was long, and red )

My luck turned after spending the time with D, warm chats and racy topics. I really miss our lunch-time picnics, and our party of three. We bought her this flow-y, contrast dress for her trip to Columbia in a few weeks, i'm excited for her.
She dropped me at Josh's, to be trampled by the puppy, picked up by his dad, and dropped at the train station. There's something so safe about the train, perhaps its the constant melodic rocking, or maybe it is the dependence of knowing you don't have to pay attention to the traffic. I just know I like the train, it makes me feel adventurous even if it's only for a few minutes. choo, choo!

My mother called ME selfish today, lolzerz

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans - john lennon

You hear about people being too busy to eat and slowly hurting themselves, when i heard that i always thought how can you not notice the hunger burning at your core?
I took a shift at work yesterday afternoon because i thought it was going to be pretty slow. I started at 4. Expected to be out at 9. Ha, ha. I was not reminded that it was college night and around 8 it was going to start getting very congested. I did not leave until 12:00.
It was when i was cashing out my money that I realized I had not eaten for 10 hours, my only meal of the day consisting of a slice of toast and an apple.
I felt gross and embarrassed, probably because I still was not hungry. It's the strangest feeling, usually i must eat every 3 hours or else my stomach starts speaking to me.
I grabbed a slice of pizza ( which i'm sure was 1/4 of a large pizza) and settled my fear of turning into 'that girl', and my soon to be screaming stomach.

serious trouble beats serious boredom - Tim in Dangerous Lives of the Alter Boys

This is the most depressing post ever, why? Because I don't do anything! In reality, I just don't do anything productive during the day and that's when i'm made to feel the worst because the majority of the human race is out doing shit.
Instead of doing the expected, i'm at home in Josh's fatty pajamas dreading any productive activities by watching movies and re-runs of Sex and the City ( she says while watching Knocked Up...again ). Although last week I forced myself to pick up the vomit of clothes from my floor and even vacuumed for the first time in literally months.
I felt a burst of creativity and I dug through my sewing craft bin for my watercolour paints and paper resulting in a peacock, i'm very happy with it...and giving it to Rachel, for her birthday, will be quite tough. Later in the week I painted over a gift Sio gave me a few years ago, i'm reduceREUSErecycling, with a Geisha girl. It's mediocre. But the Keith's helped me to go on. Alcohol brings out the ocassional artist.


So if you haven't guessed it, we dont have a lot of money. The whole money/food situation pisses me off beyond fucking belief. It will get so bad that for a couple days we don't have the basics; milk, bread, eggs, sugar. Yesterday my brother had crackers and peanut butter for breakfast, and it wasn't just for effect, nuh uh. And then, INSTEAD of going shopping my parents will either
a) go to the corner store and just get chips, dip, and diet pepsi
b) order take-out
c) go to the grocery store and buy minimal, basic things that will only last a couple days
d) actually go to the grocery store like normal people.

Scenario's a) and c) occur frequently, and b) and d) happen i would say once every two weeks each. But noo, no one listens when i say ' hey, you could cut out a)b) and c) if you just do d) instead and you'd probably spend the same amount of money!'
I came in the door today, after sitting at Josh's Dads trying my best not to show any telltale hunger signs in fear of...i don't even know what. Anyways, I came in the door hoping, and praying there were crumbs of an animal-free dish, that i told myself i'd eat regardless.
...
I almost hurled when I saw it was a god-damned pasta with tomatoes and fake-powder-cheese. I mean, I love love L O V E pasta. but there is nothing worse than macaroni with a can of diced tomatoes and all that placenta-ey tomato remains floating around ( gag ). So I made cracked-black pepper linguine with basil tomato sauce ( sauce not chunks )

It's almost one in the morning. I'm typing as quietly as possible so I don't wake up Josh, who's sleeping beside me and clicking his jaw in this strange infant-like way. Waiting for Sio to come on, because it's her prime-msn time...
instead, i'm going to dissolve under these covers and wish that that whatever knocked him out, visits me next.

I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm. - Franklin D. Roosevelt

Josh has such terrible luck, he's an example of Murphy's Law- i swear. Things go wrong for him and you want to laugh at the ironic situation, but in the same moment it's so horrible and crushing.
This Tuesday Josh had his car stolen after it being parked for less than 20 minutes. He had been having problems with this 10-year-old girl in the past few months; little things. Last week he drove the white intrepid to Sue's, when he tried to start it up minutes later to go to work it was dead, later finding out the fuel pump was shot and he had to spend 800$ for a new one.
Josh comes to my house Tuesday afternoon, immediantly after getting his car out of the shop. Parks, and comes in my room. About an hour later he goes to grab me something from he passenger side. He comes in looking so defeated, like someone just popped his trophy balloon.

The car wasn't found until the next day, ditched in a busy downtown parking lot. Back left wheel fucked, and 'something smashed in'. We had a lot of shit in there too, camping stuff ( but i doubt the joy-riders are the wilderness types, just a guess).

"We all die." She says, "The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." Diary, Chuck Palahniuk Novel.

I never really get into the halloween spirit until a few days before, it's always been like that. Halloween morning Josh and I dug holes in our pockets looking for change so we could go out and buy gory make-up and spooky nick knacks. Josh was a vampire, and i think i did his face quite well with the cheap thrift store face paint. I was a haggard jail escapee. We barely had any kids, except a cute bunch near the beginning.
And it was freezing outside.
Sio joined us later in her ' scene kid' costume, even though i told her the kids wouldn't understand. I guess it was an lolzerz inside jokez.

I worked all weekend, and my nipples were so hard the entire time; it's fucking freezing in there! But once you're dashing around, mad, confused, (and even lost some of time ) you forget about the fact that people might mistake the constant goosebumps on your arms for the slight chance you're a reptile. I got a customer early in the night who asked me ' are you a newfie?!' ( in the biggest asshole tone you can imagine ) just because i was taking long with change and he confused the hell out of me minutes before and now was blaming his stupidity on me. When i walked away he murmured to his sun-dyed wife( who looked 60 but was probably 40) ' i mean for god sakes!' I was livid, but i couldn't do anything... not even passively.

Spent a few hours before my shift on Sunday at Josh's Dads house for dinner, which very tasty. Highlight; Portabella mushrooms and Alexandre Keiths beer. Although while i was trying to savour the only meal i would have in the next 1.2.3...6 hours, I was disgusted by the fact that Josh's Stepsister was sitting, amongst all of the delicious AND moderately healthy food... eating a yogurt with Melba Toast............................................................. again, YOGURT AND MELBA TOAST. People do the dumbest things to loose weight, and they don't bother to research anything before hand except for ' miracle diets'.

Since my sleeping schedules is a bit rattled, Breakfast=Lunch, Lunch=Lupper ( inbetween lunch and supper ), and dinner is at like 7-8. This was what I made for Lupper today, since Josh plunged into the junk of his car and surfaced with my cam charger I can take pictures!


Garden Asian Salad; Jalepeno Havarti on Apple Slices; Lemon Parmesan Basil Pasta. Less than 15 min to make.

My graduation papers and junk came home today. I am an Ontario Scholar ( meaning had an average above 80%) and got a certificate with that. Also, I won the Society, Challenge and Change award...which i'm very happy about! Oh, and of course i get the cooool grad hat.

Remember no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Eleanor Roosevelt

Did you ever think that maybe YOU are the problem with sexism? I mean, did you ever take a look at yourself and think, 'geeze maybe blogging about feminist ideas and adding women's rights to my interests doesn't make me a feminist'?

I'm tired and annoyed( obviously) with these females complaining about oppression, inequality and feeling like they have to conform to unrealistic expectations, YET they;
-wear more makeup than some drag-queens
-shave all the hair off their body except that perma-died clump on their head
-tan frequently( cancer, who cares?)
-wear push up bras so much that their tits are strangling them...
can i go on? Thongs; Fake Eyelashes ; High Heels ; extensions

I'm sorry, but do those sound like things a woman would do if she wanted freedom from male dominance and subjugation? Or if she just wanted liberation and to be gone of the media's sexist portrayal of women?

You are not a feminist, you are part of the problem. You are a creation of the male fantasy and you will stay like that until you open your eyes and stop living to please the other sex.
You are a feminist oxymoron.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry - poe

Last Night/This Mornings DREAM:
I've already told close family and friends that i am pregnant. I'm fine with it, and everyone else seems to me. I actually seem to find it humorous. But I am sitting at a dinner table with one of Josh's VERY Catholic relative ( she only exists in this dream ) and we are having an average conversation then I am bored and she starts asking me about the baby and this is what i collectively say, " Nope, not going to get the baby baptized- i mean, i could just wash him in the tub, same thing ( she is disgruntled )... Nah, I decided to keep it because I don't have enough money to have an abortion, if i did i would've just cut the little guy out ( I'm just saying this to get a reaction, and in my dream she's grasping the front-seem of her dainty blouse)... and you know, if he ends up getting sick I have no problem with Euthanasia!" She gasps, shakes her head and huff-puffs away. I laugh and rub my belly feeling accomplished and proud.

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Is it sad that money makes me happy? Superficial? It's not the actual fact that I have money. It's that it means I'm closer to AUSTRALIA. I'm 3/5ths the way there, and it's all i can think about.
I hate the thought of going to work, but when i'm there it's exhilarating and challenging to have three tables of 8-12 at once. At times I look like a mad rabbit dashing from kitchen - computer - table - bar - bathroom ( because my bladder is pea sized ). That's what work was like last night for only a few hours, then the Pub became a desolate desert bar with the same faces from the nights and nights before.
There's times when i fantasize about ripping off my apron and storming out the front due to a shitty-tipper or like last night. Two 'high school'-self conscious-girls ( not women ) whispered and rolled their eyes as i approached their table, and as soon as i turned my back they giggled as if we were in grade 7 again. Young women are so catty and exude low self esteem; defensive and harsh. I'd take grabby, slutty men too old for me over these females in ostentatious style.

I'm looking for another job, preferably something in the office. Rachel is looking in to getting her mom to find me a job at Stantec. I'm going to look online too, but it's never failed to disappoint me yet! I need all this money because I just realized I can't put ALL my income into savings, Christmas is coming and even though i'm not buying people anything ( because this year i am fully disgusted by Christmas consumerism and how materialistic, artificial, and full of crap this 'christian holiday' has become) but i still need supplies.

I'm looking forward to the future and independence

fourteen percent

With every glass of wine, i find that i sink deeper into this marshmellow chair...trying to figure out what day it exactly is and what, if anything, i should be doing.
nothing.
I had planned my life these few shedding months, to be filled with irritating, havoc filled work. Instead I am forced to crawl up the walls by day-time television and the slow disapearing act in my kitchen pantry, until 9 o-clock skids by and i'm yanked out of my duvet-sandwhich and underwear pajamas.
When my boyfriend, Josh, and I returned back from our trip to Nova Scotia at the end of August, I was quickly hired at this local Pub as a waitress. I carry cardiac-arrest filled meals to customers, choking them down with pintS of beer, whilst suffering their sexist comments with a plastic smile. But hey, tips are good. My boss is paying me less than minimum wage, which i'm pretty sure is illegal- but i keep my hands in my pocket and do that cute-innocent-sexy smile instead of standing up for myself.
Tearing the skin off my back, is the fact that in 'real life' i don't wear make-up, cover up my unshaven legs, keep my opinions to myself or stay quiet during a sexist remark... at work, i have to and those pieces of who i am yells at me saying ' you're a sell out'.
The other waitesses/servers seem very 'into themselves' , mirror-in-the-pocket type.

Maybe the reason there is only a thin drop in this thick bottle left, between me and my boyfriend, is because my parents are like bamboo slivers up my thumb nail. I mean, I can't stay in the same room as them for more than minutes without almost going into a mundane monologue about my volcanic hatred i've held inside, and in pages, about them for the past few years about their, so called, 'parenting'.

Josh's mom said 'I love you' during a good-bye hug, this week, to me- my lips formed that uncontrollable frowning tick and i could have cried because i literally can't remember the last time my own parents said those three words. I said ' I love you' back, and i meant it.
Would I mean it if i said it to my mother? Who knows. But i do know, I'm getting that drop of wine out with my tongue.