Bryanna and the City

Monday, February 28, 2005

This one should be filed under TMI

I've mentioned a couple of times that I "contracted" Mono this past summer, you know, the kissing disease that makes you really sleepy. Yeah, so I always thought that Mono would be great, you know, not having to do anything, not being able to eat and sleeping all the time...ummm yeah, I was totally wrong. Have you ever felt like you were going to die? Yeah? Well that's how I felt for two weeks last summer and for the rest of the summer I just felt like crap. Anyhoo, for some reason I remembered something about my summer of "The Great Illness" that I thought was pretty funny, but you may think it's a little TMI.

Okay. Here it goes...

At the peak of my Mono illness I had a headache, a fever, strep throat, jaundice (I was yellow), swollen glands everywhere (I mean EVERYWHERE) and I was nauseous and threw up a couple of times. The "funny" (definitely not "ha ha funny") thing was that I was averaging about 2 hours of sleep a day..why? Because I was in so much pain that I couldn't sleep.

So my mom (who along with my dad took care of me the whole ya!) went to the pharmacy to find a solution to this problem. When she came back this is how the conversation went:
Mom: "So the Pharmacist gave me something so that you don't have to swallow your pain killers"
Me: "Cool. What is it?"
Mom: "A suppository."
Me: "Oh, great I hate having to swallow those pills...What's a suppository?"

Umm yeah. Needless to say, the thought of that didn't make me feel any better...However, I did find relief and sleep eventually when my mom found some T3's with codeine that she had left over from a previous surgery. Yay for my mom!

So my Mono story doesn't really end there...but I'll tell you about my blood platelet count dropping to nothing, not being able to shave my legs, my joints swelling up while waiting for the doctor, a trip to the emergency room, broken blood vessels all over my body and my mom hitting on the emergency room doctor and telling him that I eat liver another day. Until then, think of my face when my mom explained to me what a suppository was and where it goes...

I'm so not cool

Okay, so today as I was going down my everyday reads I was shocked and happy to see that I was mentioned on Jackie's blog (a new read of mine). Along with two other bloggers, I was selected by Jackie to complete a questionnaire on music that she had posted on her blog. So here it is...I realised as I was doing it that I'm really not "cool" when it comes to music. If it makes me wanna dance around in my skivvies then it's good music to me...

1. Total amount of music files on your computer:
Er…music files? What are those? I guess the answer is none.

2. The last CD you bought was:
Elephunk – The Black Eyed Peas & the soundtrack for Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (I bought them at the same time)

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?
Make the Time from Ammatusk (Scott’s band – just listened to his Podcast and me saying “um” about 50 times…go check it out and laugh at me).

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

a. Colorblind – The Counting Crows

I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding

I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside

b. I Eat Dinner (When the Hunger’s Gone) RufusWainwright f. Dido

I eat dinner at the kitchen table
By the light of the TV screen
I eat leftovers with mashed potatoes
No more candlelight, no more romance, no more small talk
When the plate is clean
When the hunger's gone, when the hunger's gone.

c. Signs Snoop Dogg f. Justin Timberlake

(for obvious reasons)

d. These Words Natasha Bedingfield

Threw some chords together
The combination D.E.F.
It’s who I am it’s what I do
And I was gonna lay it down for you

These words are my own
From my heart flow
I love you! I love you!
I love you! I love you!

e. How’s it Going to Be Third Eye Blind

I want to get myself back in again
The soft dive of oblivion.
Want to taste the salt of your skin
The soft dive of oblivion.

5. Who are you going to pass this stick to? (3 persons) and why?
Tony, Jordan and DD (for reasons I will reveal at a later date...)

Later Date: because I know them personally and will pull a guilt trip the next time I see them if they don't do it.


I say "Um" a lot, eh?

Friday, February 25, 2005

It's all luvverly jubberly mates

As suggested by SMS (my Super Middle Sis) in my previous post's comments (Bry I think that you should try to include as many "English" terms in your blogs as you can in preparation for the culture shock of London and also so I can laugh at you), I'm going to start inserting funny British slang in some of my posts now. Today's story will be full of it...go here for the definitions if need be... oh, and V will be writing it.

Hello my beautiful people, it's me, Ms. Shaw! Thought you'd never see the likes of me again since my first post, but here I am my darlings. Did you miss me? Of course you did! You're probably wondering why I'm here, well I love to tell a good cock and bull story that's all flim flam especially when it involves Bry and that fabulous DD. So here's one that's the dogs bullocks...


A while back before DD and Bry decided to give up the hooch for some crazy Catholic reason, the two girls along with Lexi and Andrew were feeling a little Billy no mates so they belled each other up and decided it was about time to get banjaxed and head to the local bean-flicker and bum bandit bar for a night out on the tiles. It was brass monkeys out, so Bry decided to take the bus to Lexi's and Andrew's place instead of walking.

When she got there they all had a blinding good time getting pretty bladdered, then Bry said it was time to stop fart-arseing about and get going to the bar because it would be dead cert that there'd be a line up if they didn't. On the way there DD wouldn't shut her gob and kept saying "wah wah wahhh" and Bry thought it would be funny to float an air biscuit. Soon after Lexi asked, "who guffed?". Bry decided not to tell and keep her pie hole shut.

It turned out DD was a bit too legless and the guvs at the bar wouldn't let her in. Bry, Lexi and Andrew were choked to see DD leave in the cabbie but it turned out luvverly jubberly anyways and they all thought the knees up was the dogs bullocks. Luckily, none of them were arseholed enough to pull an an arse over tits like Lexi did at her birthday bash a month earlier.

Bry was totally Adam and Eved, to say the least, to bump into a bloke from the office that night. She tried to pull off a duck and dive but, crikey, he saw her anyways. She wasn't totally minging or off her face, but she was still gobsmacked nontheless to see him there and felt like a mong for being a little bladdered. He was probably thinking why doesn't she just naff off?

By 2:00 am they were all cabbaged and decided to call it a night, so they had it on their toes and all went home for a good kip.

The end.

*The British have way too many slang terms for drunk*
**This took me a long time**

Thursday, February 24, 2005


I was inspired to go for a walk today after work, so when I got home I ran into my bedroom to put on my "walking clothes" when, guess what song came on?...."Signs"' shizzle... right when I was down to my skivvies! He he he...pretty cool, eh?

...Er...sorry about this post I really just wanted to write something about skivvies again..practicing my "London Speak" for July...

The Confessional

I have a little secret…

Whenever I hear the new song "Signs" by Snoop Dogg/ f. Justin Timberlake I'm compelled to stop whatever I'm doing, whether it be blow drying my hair, making dinner or finding a cure for cancer, and my body is forced to bounce around my house for the duration of the song (I think it's called dancing).


Question: What do you get when you combine a rapper who oddly resembles a rat and a skinny ex-boy-band-white-boy?

Answer: Some fabulous dance around your room in just your skivvies music.

Please don't judge me...

…until you’ve tried it.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Can I get an "Awkward!" from the crowd...

When I say "Awk", you say "Ward"... Awk (Ward!) Awk (Ward!)...

When I got this job in September it just "coincidentally" turned out that the firm the guy I was dating at the time worked for was associated with this company. We obviously didn't stay together, but he comes to Vancouver occasionally to make his professional "rounds".


Luckily, I knew he would be here today (he was one of the guys that I bumped into last Saturday) and about 10 minutes ago he left. I'm not going to lie and say that it was horrible to see him again, but it was definitely awkward to see him at work, you know, doing the whole "how are you?" bit with someone who only 7 months ago you really cared about. I'm not saying that I don't like my exes, I'm actually on speaking terms with "most" of them, I'm just saying that sometimes it would be easier if they disappeared for a couple of years until you felt completely over them. Perhaps they could be banished to the " X planet" or the moon or Cuba, whichever.

I'm just saying...

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

My "Home Town" Adventure

Even though I'm really, really, REALLY excited about my trip this summer, it is still five months away and I'm sure that you don't want read my "things to do before Greece" list yet (or ever....but YOU WILL READ IT) , so I guess I'll tell you about my weekend. I went on a little trip to my "home town" this past weekend a.k.a the place where I'll be living for 4 months in...umm..let me do the math...53 days. "Yay"...dripping with sarcasm.

It feels as though my two co-op semesters have gone by so quickly. It's scary just how quickly the months have flown by. All I know is I'll be doing the "happy dance" on my last day of work (44 days from now). I'm also looking forward to the summer beginning without having to complete 5 final exams... *pause*...(I just did a "mini" Happy Dance in my head).

Okay, back to my weekend. There are a few reasons why I went home for the weekend. For one, I had to fulfill my Maid of Honor duties and attend a Bridal Show with my engaged best friend and I guess, I wanted to visit with my parents, but most of all, I just needed to do some laundry. I refuse to wash my work clothes at a Laundromat; so needless to say...I desperately needed to make a trip home.

I spent some quality time with my parents on Saturday afternoon and then went out to one of the 3 bars people my age go to with T and Nat. I made us go early because it was cold out and I refused to wait in line. When we arrived the crowd was motley at best. Seriously. I'm not trying to sound like a snob, but I spent the first hour just looking around the bar thinking, "who are these people? And where did they come from?". But by midnight the crowd improved and I bumped into a few people I know (inevitable in a small town). Some other pretty funny stuff happened (involving two men from my past), but you'll have to ask me in person or e-mail me if you want to know the details (I've decided to practice a little discretion from now on...or until I forget who reads this thing again).

Even though I didn't drink at all, I woke up feeling nauseous, dehydrated and my head hurt...that's right, I was mysteriously hung over...from what? You'll have to ask me in person or e-mail me to find out (he he he just kidding). I actually have NO IDEA why I was experiencing these symptoms. Perhaps I was being punished for breaking two of my Lenten promises earlier that day (I ate some sweets and let my parents take me out for dinner) or perhaps I just ate something funky the previous night, didn't drink enough water and was experiencing early stages of the Flu? Nah...I'm sure I was being punished.

So on Sunday I went to a bridal show. It was while watching the fashion show and seeing the wedding dresses paraded before me, while sitting next to my 5 month pregnant friend that I thought to myself, "when the h*ll did this happen?" Wasn't it just a few years ago that we were having sleepovers and eating 10 bags of chips without caring about the carbs or the fat content, complaining how stupid boys are and divulging who our secret crushes were? Seriously...when did this happen because I'm sure I haven't made this leap to adulthood yet?...h*ck, I'm still moving home for the summer to save money and bringing laundry home during weekend visits! I guess some people are just ready to grow up, or for that matter, do "grown up things" a little sooner than others. I know for sure I'm not there yet....I also know that I probably won't be there for a long time.

Anyways, so my weekend adventure ended with a 5 hour bus ride back to Vancouver and I was lucky that this time I didn't have to sit next to a Pepsi drinking woman whose belches made it obvious that her dinner included garlic...yeah, gross.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Dreaming of white, sandy beaches...

It's official!! My plane ticket is booked (hopefully I don't get screwed over for doing it online). I'll be heading to London on July 15 to meet up with my sisters and then we're off to Turkey and Greece until August 15. I can't wait! My freckled skin won't know what hit it ...don't worry I'll be bringing my SPF 45.

Friday, February 18, 2005

In Spite or In Spite Of?

When I hear the words, "you can't", in my head I always think, "wanna make a bet I can't?" I've been raised to believe that I can do anything. When someone laughed at my plan to become super flexible after joining a kickboxing club, sure enough 6 months later I was able to do the splits (both ways). When a professor marked my fist paper a "C" saying that it was a perfectly respectable grade, I pulled off an "A" on the next paper. And when my first boyfriend ever said that I couldn't beat his record of laps back and forth under water in a backyard swimming pool, I smiled sweetly, told him to move aside and ended up doubling his measly record. He spent the rest of the night trying to beat the end of the night he was exhausted and completely humiliated (we didn't last much longer). I've never backed down from a challenge and I hope I never will.

Last summer, I wake boarded for the first time. I went with a couple of friends the first time. The guys kept telling me not to be upset, that I would most likely not make it up the first time. The one guy told me that he tried about 10 times his first time and never made it up on the board. I could feel the competitive nature of me begin to rise as I listened intently to their cautionary tales. There were a few things working against me that night. The biggest factor was that after two months of bed rest I had almost no muscle mass left and was the weakest I'd been since I was 12. The second factor was that the board and bindings were more suitable for a 6'0" man than a 5'2" girl and the third was that I'd only been snowboarding twice and that was almost 6 years ago. Whatever, I thought and jumped into the river. They threw me the towrope and I waited there in the water.

I gave them the thumbs up to start the engine. It took a couple seconds for the rope to become taught and then I could feel the pull of the boat. For what must have been only 5 seconds it felt like my arms were going to be pulled out of their sockets. I held on though, digging my heels back into the water. And then I was up. I WAS UP!!!

It only lasted for about 30 seconds because the boys hadn't explained what to do once I was up because they didn't think I would ever make it. When the boat circled around I looked at them smugly and said, "now that you know I can get up, could you tell what I'm supposed to do?"

Silly boys.

For Sophie & Prince : Part I

Sophie needed someone to talk to and it turns out my ears were just as good as any. I met Sophie at the park near my house on a crisp, sunny day in April of last year. Whenever life got to be too complicated or too stressful I would take a trip to this park, sit on my favorite park bench and watch the sailboats in the bay. I could spend hours there, watching the white sails dance upon the cold, blue water. Remembering the days I've spent on the open ocean. Remembering the roll of the water rocking me to sleep, the salt in the air trapped within my unruly hair and the cracking noise the sail makes when it catches a strong gust of wind. It was final exam time. I had been sitting there on the bench, my knees pulled up to my chin, entranced by the action on the water when I noticed Sophie in the distance. I could tell by the way she was walking that she was an old woman. Elderly people have a way if walking, like they are thinking about every step they take in order not to fall. However, Sophie was being to made to walk a little faster than she probably wanted to. With her was a small dog, but a dog big enough nonetheless to take advantage of Sophie's feeble state. Sophie was being pulled to the right and to the left, trying with the strength she had left to keep this little beast on course. When she came up to my bench she stopped and looked out into the bay. She then turned to me and asked if she could sit down.

"Sure", I responded. I could tell she was exhausted.

"Thank you".

"Who's this?" I asked, bending down to give the little dog a pat on his head.

"This is Prince".

"What a fine name you have" I said to the dog, who had jumped up on my legs and was looking at me with eyes that pleaded for me to pet him. I reached down and picked him up. I could tell he was still only a puppy, maybe 8 months old or so. I put my face close to his and said, "Nice to meet you Prince". He licked my nose. I set him down again and said, "it's a beautiful day today, do you come here a lot?"

Sophie let out a little chuckle, "I come here almost every day, I bring Prince. My goal is to tire him out, he's such a handful".

I looked at Prince and laughed, "it looked as though he were the one giving you the walk".

Sophie bent down to give Prince a pat on the head, "my friend thought it would be a good idea to get a dog for myself after my daughter died. It's been almost a year, since she's passed. I've had Prince for almost that long. Everyone had told me that he'll settle down once he's a year old."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that it took over 10 years for my dog to settle down and even then, he could still be a naughty rascal.

We sat there for over an hour. Sharing stories about our dogs. I could tell there was something Sophie wanted to say, something that she would begin to talk about and then just as quickly would change the subject. I could see the tension in her rising as we continued to talk. And then, she said, "my daughter died in my home. I was the one to find her."

The sadness in her eyes was visible now, it had always been there, but now I actually recognized what it was. I wasn't sure how to respond or if she even wanted me to speak at all. She continued to tell me about daughter. She had been sick since she was a young girl. Sophie had taken care of her her whole life, but when the burden was too hard for Sophie to undertake herself, her daughter was placed in a full-time care facility. Everyday Sophie would take the bus to visit her daughter and take her out for day trips in her wheelchair. When her daughter's illness became worse, Sophie wanted her to be in the home she grew up in, a familiar place, close to her mother. Every morning Sophie would bring her daughter tea. Some mornings were better than others, The morning before she passed was one of the best mornings they had spent together in a long time.

"She told me she felt great that morning. She wanted to go out for the day." Sophie smiled as she said this. "So that's what we did. I took her to the market in Granville Island. I thought she was perhaps taking a turn for the better" Sophie stopped for a second, caught up in the memory , "but when we got home she was very tired. The next morning I brought her tea up to her like I usually do. She did not look well, but she promised to try and drink the tea. When I went to check on her later that morning she had fallen asleep. I knew she needed her rest, so I decided to let her sleep. When I went to check on her in the afternoon, she appeared to still be sleeping. I went over to wake her, but when I touched her she was cold. She had passed. Right there in her sleep. In her bed. In our home."

Sophie continued her story, telling me how she had called the ambulance, how her home seemed so empty that day and still does today. Then she turned to Prince and said, "that's why I have you, my Prince". It was at that moment that I could see they truly loved each other. No matter how bad Prince could be, he was all Sophie had now. Her husband had passed long before her daughter and she had lost contact with her family long ago. We sat there together staring out into the bay. Sophie perhaps remembering the days she had with her daughter and me thinking how blessed I was for what I had. I cold gust of wind swept over us from the beach, waking Sophie from her dream. She looked at me and thanked me for listening.

"My name's Sophie by the way."

"Nice to meet you Sophie, my name's Bryanna." I picked up Prince and kissed his cold, black nose, "now you be good to Sophie, young man".

I watched Sophie and Prince walk away until they were black dots on the horizon and then I got up from my bench and walked home. I still had some studying to do.

For Sophie & Prince : Part II

I often wondered why Sophie opened up to me that day. It wasn't until I started this blog that I realized why. When someone has a story to tell it grows inside you like a little seed until it's forced to be released. From the moment I met Sophie, I knew she was bursting with something, I could tell she had a story to tell. I t didn't matter that I was a complete stranger, actually the fact that I was a complete stranger probably made all the difference. She didn't want me to judge her or pity her, she didn't want to tell me her whole life story, she had one story she needed to tell, one story of many in her numerous years to get out and I was so lucky to be the one hear it.

When stories are not told the little germinating seed inside you begins to rot. I could feel it inside me before I started this blog. I could taste the rot in my throat and I knew it would soon spill out into my exterior being if I didn't do something about it.

As a young girl I was always very quiet, preferring to spend hours at the beach during low tide exploring the tidal pools than interacting with adults or relatives. A part of me still prefers to do that today. I have an internal voice inside me that is always playing. I'm the type of person that enjoys a 5 hour bus ride with nothing to read or watch, I'm content with just sitting there, my eyes closed in my own private world. However, that's not what I'm "all about" and neither is this blog.

I started this blog to release the stories that were inside of me, to lesson the rot I could feel in my stomach. The stories I tell are just a fraction of who I am. If my life were an iceberg, my blog wouldn’t even be the tip. It's merely one H2O molecule of the greater whole. So don't assume you know me, who I am or what I am about because you've read some silly stories that occurred when I was young and naive. There's still what remains beneath the dark, cold water. The bulk of the mass from the iceberg lies there.

I'm not the quiet girl I used to be. I learned from my mother a long time ago that being timid and quiet would never get me anywhere. I've grown to become a strong woman, an intelligent woman, a woman who won't back down when challenged, a passionate woman, a creative woman. I'm confidant in who I am and what I stand for; my parents raised us that way. I will never make apologies for who I am, the experiences I've had and who I've become. This is my life and I only have one.

You're probably wondering why I decided to write this entry. The truth is I've wanted to write it for a long time. Just as I've always known that my blog wasn't indicative of who I was as a human being, I've always known that the other blogs I read are also just glimpses into someone else's world.

Someone warned me that what I write may give people a certain impression of who I am. If anyone has passed bad judgment on my character because of a few silly stories I've told, then that's their problem, not mine. I write this blog for me and no one else, and that's the way it has and always will be.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Don't Try This at Home!

With my 22nd birthday coming up, I've been reminiscing about my birthday celebrations of last year...err...or, what I can remember of them. Ever tried Absinth...after already being a *little* tipsy? *ahem* ...ANYWAYS, last year the theme was Sex and the City. Which coincidentally it turned out that Chris Noth *swoon* was in town for a Sex and the City event at Sky bar that same night. However, instead of going there, DD, Natty, and Miss King and I went to a local "pub" all Sex and the Citified in high heels and skirts.

I spent most of the night in a comfy chair with some random guy's jacket over my head (it helped with the spinning in my head), while DD chatted it up with an air traffic controller dude who apparently owned a crotch-rocket. So by 1:00 am it was time for us to head back home. Mr. Crotch Rocket asked for DD's number. She [EDIT] liked him and from what I can remeber he was pretty damn hot too.

Turns out the Mr. Crotch rocket decided for whatever reason not to call DD. *SIDE NOTE * To all the single men: Why would you ask for a girls number and never call her? huh? However, I guess Mr. Crotch Rocket had revealed the general location of where he lived and a couple of weeks later DD mentioned that she had seen a blue (his was blue) crotch-rocket around that area. I'm usually a very sweet *cough*, well mannered *cough-cough*, Pollyanna type but I was feeling particularly devious that night and suggested we go toilet paper it. DD was up for it, so we got on our black clothing (oddly this was not the first time we'd set out in the night dressed all in black), but before we left on our TP mission, I thought of a WAY better idea. Instead, wouldn't it be more "interesting" if we left a note for him? DD agreed, so I scribbled something on an old receipt and we scampered off into the darkness.

For some reason I was delegated as the official "placer of the note on the crotch rocket" . When we reached the C-R, I planted the note. It read:

Nice crotch rocket.
Can I go for a ride?
Give me a call ### - ####.


Part of me thought that he would never call and an even bigger part of me hoped that the rain would wash away the writing on the paper. But, if that were true I probably would not be telling you this story, would I?

The next day I checked my Caller ID and sure enough there was a "mystery number", but no message. DD convinced me to call it, so I did. Luckily it went to his voice-mail, but it was not Mr. Crotch Rocket's voice mail, but some guy named Dave. I hung up the phone, but two seconds later it rang again. It was Dave. We did the whole "did you just call?" thing and then he asked, "is this Jane?". I immediately removed the phone from my ear, covered the receiver with my left hand and mouthed to DD frantically, “IT'S THE CROTCH ROCKET GUY!” She motioned for me to keep talking to him. I immediately apologized and explained what happened. He thought it was extremely funny and invited both of us out for drinks.

What a great story this would be if we actually ended up together, but alas, it turns out he wasn't my type or DD's or A-M's (my other roommate at the time who came with us)...and I never did get a ride on that crotch-rocket. I wonder what I'll do for my birthday this year?


Finally, something funny happened to me recently. Yesterday Mr. P and I decided to make dinner together so we stopped at IGA. We only had a few things to buy so when it came to the check out lanes we decided that Express would be the best. There we two Express lanes side by side. They had similar line-ups, so I stood in one and he stood in the other. We're such jerk faces, eh? Anyway, mine was moving a little faster so I motioned him to come to my lane. At the same time I noticed an older man watching us, pretending to jump between the two lines as well. As Mr.P was coming over to mine, this man asked him if I was his wife. I immediately turned bright red. Mr. P's response? Well, it wasn't "no" or "she's my girlfriend" or even "she's my friend". No, he responded simply, "kinda." Ummm....huh? "Kinda"? Sounds like I'm his mistress! So this man thought this was pretty funny and proceeded to say stuff like, "I'm kinda a lawyer, do you want me to fix this for you?" ... Luckily his line began to move and he was out of the store before we were. When I got in the car I turned to Mr. P and said "Kinda?...What's that supposed to mean?" I guess Mr. P thought the question was a bit personal in the first place for a complete stranger to ask, so he wanted to be as ambiguous as possible...he he he I think I'm going to change his name from Mr.P to KMH (Kinda My Husband).

Wednesday, February 16, 2005


Do you know what happens to a vacuum bag when it’s not replaced regularly? Yes? So do I. However, yesterday my landlord (from H*ll) thought that I needed a visual representation. She knocked on the door leading to our suite and opened it as soon as I said “yes?”. She then proceeded to say, “oh hi, Bryanna. Could you come up here? I want to show you something.” I could see her holding something in her hands. When I made it to the top of the stairs she said, “no wonder the vacuum wasn’t working..just look at this!”. I looked at the vacuum bag full of hair and other crap that I’d rather not have seen right before I started to cook my dinner. Because she’s old I said as sweetly as I possibly could, “yeah, wow. Won’t you look at that?”. THEN, she wanted me to keep the vile bag to show my roommates. I said, “no thanks” and descended back into my suite. Now, let me explain something. They store the vacuum at the top of the stairs, so technically it’s in our suite. Therefore, they enter our suite without asking us on a regular basis and then expect us to change the vacuum bags. Have I also mentioned that they FORCE us to recycle (which I would do anyways, but the fact that it’s in our contract is a bit much) and they make us throw our garbage out in paper bags (yeah…like that is going to happen in a house full of girls?!). Needless to say, I’m very happy that I only have 2 more months with these people. Oh, I guess I haven’t mentioned this yet, but in a couple of months it will be Bryanna and a Different City.

Yuck! : Part II

I woke up to smell of skunk in my bedroom this morning. I think one sprayed in the front yard and of course my window was open. Either that, or someone was enjoying some fine home grown green this morning. In Vancouver, you can never really tell.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

"I fell asleep."

Did ever tell you about the time when a guy was 3 HOURS late for a date?

We had met the previous Saturday at a pub in the trendy Yaletown area of Vancouver. The male scene that night was "lacking", but it did not stop me from playing my favorite bar game. The game *usually goes like this, I pick a few guys in the club (2 or 3) and then I make eye contact with them throughout the night. The object of the game is to get them to approach me and either buy me a drink, ask me to dance or ask for my number (or do all three). I don't approach them because most guys like thinking that they're, you know, the one in "control" of the situation. But, wah ha ha ha...little do they know that I am indeed the "puppet master"...I revealed this to a guy once who was actually offended. He he whatever.

So, after a good hour of playing "the game", DD and I had to make a trip to the ladies room (yes, girls must go to the bathroom together). When we returned to our seats, they were occupied by three men. DD and I teased them for taking our seats and they were nice enough to scooch over and let us in. Immediately one of the guys looked at me and asked me if I was married. I did a "huh?" and then he pointed to my "ring" finger. I was wearing a turquoise flower ring on that finger (do I look like a hippy bride?) because it was the only finger it fit on. I told him that I was not married and then he asked if I had a boyfriend, which I replied no to as well. His demeanor completely changed and he told me that he had noticed me looking at him before. For some reason I had been playing the game a little too vigorously that night and had not remembered him, but pretended that I did anyway. We hit it off immediately. Then I found out that he was a fire fighter (he flashed me his badge) and was considerably older than me. I had dated men who were a couple years older than me before, but never someone 12 years my senior. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pursue this any further, but he had already swept me off my feet. He was saying all the right things, telling me I was beautiful and perfect...blah blah blah. At the end of the night he called a cab for me and we said our good-byes.

I guess he realized that we had not exchanged numbers after the cab drove away because a few minutes later I could hear the dispatcher relaying a message to the driver. My face went completely red when I heard the dispatcher request that the driver relay a message to his passenger from a Mr. Firehall. It was his phone number.

I waited a couple of days to call him...just to keep him on his toes (cruel, no?). We planned to meet later in the week, which we did. The date went well, but it became apparent that the age difference was an issue in terms of life plans and time lines. We decided to give it a try anyways, that is, until our next date.

He was supposed to take me out for a nice dinner and was scheduled to pick me up at 6:30. By 6:30 I was waiting for him. By 7:00 I decided to give him a call. I called both his cell # and his land line. Neither were answered. By 8:00 I tried again, still no answer. By 8:30 I put my sweatpants on and pulled my hair back. By 9:00 the phone rang. He had "fallen asleep" and he was "sorry". He arrived at my house at 9:30....with....NO FLOWERS!! Our 1-week romance ended that night. Not just because he was late, but because he had "marriage" ACK! and "babies" DOUBLE ACK!! on his mind, while I had school and traveling on mine. But, for reasons I will never know he called me almost three months later...

*usually - meaning on a couple occasions a different random guy has intercepted these stares creating a very awkward situation when he decides to approach me later...

Sorry, I have a good excuse!

As some people noticed, I didn't post yesterday...but, I have a very good excuse. You see, I was passed out in my bed ALL DAY yesterday. Seems the lack of alcohol, sugar, fast food and of course SUSHI in my diet for the past 6 days caused me to fall into a deep....DEEP coma Sunday night. I didn't wake up until 6:30 this morning. I missed V-DAY!! Aha ha ha ha...(yes, that's me laughing at myself)...which, you better get used to because I bust out in spontaneous laughter a lot...some people think I'm laughing at them, but I'm really just laughing at something funny that just popped into my head...woah...I digress.

Oh, you want to know the real reason for my day off? In case you're wondering, it had nothing to do with Valentine's Day. I have nothing against the day and I even had someone (Mr. P) to celebrate with this year. It just “coincidentally” turned out that everything I started to write about yesterday turned into poo (he he "poo"). It was really terrible. I started about 6 posts, some about V-Day, some not, but all you need to know is that they were all very, VERY bad. So, I decided at about mid-day to write nothing at all and to post a Valentine instead for all my readers. Blogger was being a b*tch yesterday, so this took me a while. Then, when I finally got the image up, the sucker took over the entire page. It was huge. Anybody catch it? It was up for about 30 minutes. Anyways, I deleted it and just decided to call it a day by then. So, to everyone who was disappointed by my non-post yesterday. I'm sorry. But I did it for you. Better nothing, than poo...right? I still have nothing blog worthy to report today. I could tell you about my V-Day. It was nice. Very casual. I cooked dinner for Mr. P and he gave me a heart shaped box of chocolates and a teddy bear.

So....*twiddling my thumbs* what shall I write about today?

Friday, February 11, 2005


I’m really, really, really craving sushi!!! All you can eat sushi at Shabusen…But I can’t eat out for another 36 days!!!! DD we need to make sushi again…I’m being tempted by the devil (Read: Tempura Yams, Tuna Sashimi and Miso Soup). Stomp. Stomp. Hmph.

[Sorry DD, S.S. just felt right. I haven’t heard you use it in a while though, what gives?]

Male Strippers and Bad Hair Cuts

Man I’m tired. I just finished commenting on almost every blog on my blogroll. Some days I’m a silent lurking reader and other days I like to comment long and repeatedly (like today). I’m so happy it’s Friday! Not that I really have anything planned yet, but I always love getting home on a Friday night after 8 looong hours of work, knowing that I don’t have to wake up at 6:15 tomorrow morning and that I won’t have to do that for another two days. Yay! It’s also gloriously sunny out today (albeit still chilly out). I think I’m going to straighten my hair tonight (It always looks longer straight) one last time before I get a trim. Yes, just a trim. I love my hair and I’m not ready to part with more than 2 inches. This is partly due to the fact that my hair was literally butchered this past summer. Oohh ha ha ha it’s a funny story…let me tell you.

Last summer a couple of my friends wanted to check out the male strippers that had come to town for one night in June. I was extremely apprehensive about this because the first time I saw male strippers I was certifiably scarred for life. I had NO IDEA that they would be COMPLETELY naked. Seriously, NO IDEA. OR! That their “grotesquely large members” would be *ahem* erect the whole time. I left the bar that night violated and vowing never to go see male stripper EVER again!

So, when my friend approached me about this I said no at first. But, then agreed to go, telling myself I would leave if it got too explicit.

These strippers actually did not strip to their birthday suits, but to “tasteful” booty shorts. A friend of mine had purchased some fake money (they use fake paper money because it’s more “hygienic” or something) and she had given me some. After they did their little strip dance they would come over to you if you flashed a paper bill at them. So I decided to get rid of my bills and waited for the sweaty man to come over. At this time another friend of mine stuffed two bills down my shirt. The stripper proceeded to pick me up. Yes, he PICKED ME UP, forcing me to straddle his upper chest. I was so completely mortified that I was shaking by the time him put me down. (NEVER again NEVER!!)

However, I did win a door prize, which was a free hair cut and hair product. (woo hoo for me).
I needed a hair cut (like I always do ) so I made an appointment.

I told the hairdresser that I wanted to have some layers cut into my hair, but that I wanted to keep most of the length. I left there with hair 4 inches shorter than when I came in and layers that were shorter in the back then in the font? huh? wha? Yeah. WORST. HAIR. CUT. EVER!! The sh*tty thing was that I had tipped her $10 (because it was free)…I didn’t realise how bad it was until I got home. I went into a deep depression over it for two days (until I realized that I could keep it pulled back until it grew out a bit).

So, it’s grown out, and now I’m scared to get it cut again, especially because I want my hair to look great, no awesome, when I go travelling this summer. But I have to go soon, a 5’2” person should never have hair this long.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Meet Madusa

My head hurts.
I’ve been drinking water like a crazy lady because dehydration “supposedly” causes headaches.
So. Far. It. Has. Not. Worked.
I think I have a fever too.

Anyways, I’m going to be a trooper and write about something nevertheless.

This morning a complete stranger on the bus commented how perfectly my rosy cheeks and lips matched my whole ensemble (pink scarf, brown/pink/beige coat). It got me to thinking…why is that I look all cute and matchy-poo (yes, I DID just say that) at 8:00 am, but by 3:00 p.m. or 4:00 (if I’m lucky) I look like I’ve been driving in a convertible with the top down? And it’s been a looong drive. Seriously. Some nights when I get home, I look in the mirror and think “why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

What happens to me during the course of the day to cause this? I work for 8 hours in an office, at a desk….I only move to go pee and heat up my lunch. It’s truly a conundrum…that as of yet has been unsolved.

BTW – My hair is so long now it’s out of control sort of like this...

Now that I know how to add pics...

So, the only pics I'm able to post right now are the ones I have saved on my disk. Most of them are digital pictures of other pictures (again, don't ask).

Picture #1: Bryanna. Age ~ 6. In the rain.
...there are a few things you should note in this picture:
a. My pink umbrella (which is, yes, broken)
b. My army green rain coat (my mom bought it because it was cheap and she thought it would be "suitable" for both a boy and a girl...thanks mom, love ya!)
c. My untied shoelace...I probably tripped on my face after this picture was taken.

Picture #2: Bryanna. Age 18. High school Grad.
No, I am NOT drunk, but don't I look like a fun Valedictorian?

Picture #3: Bryanna et al. Age 20. My cousin Teena and Frosty's wedding.
From left to right (Me. SOS. SMS).
*Please don't hurt me SOS and SMS*
Yes, we might be drunk...just a little.

NJ - Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thanks to NJ, you can now see THE CUTEST DOG IN THE WHOLE WORLD. Keep in my mind that this picture was taken during his last year... after his jaw surgery (yeah, don't ask) and what looks like a day before his next scheduled hair cut.

Coming soon...

I just realised that I’m pretty lame when it comes to sound effects. I spent a good five minutes trying to think of a good way to describe my frustration. “Aarrgg!” is too-piratey, “Ack!” is what I usually use to convey shock and/or embarrassment and “Grrr…” is what I use with Mr.P...I mean...when I’m angry. I think I’m going to settle with a big “Hmmmph!”, even though it doesn’t fully capture the frustration of my situation…

So what has frustrated me so? I’ll tell you, but let me just say this first. I would never claim to be a computer geek or even a computer nerd (yes, there IS a difference), but I’m pretty good at fiddling around on a PC and in my previous job I was even crowned the “computer issues go to girl” (CIGG), along with “Poster Maker Extraordinaire” (but that’s a story for another time). That said, I decided that it was time for my readership, who weren’t lucky enough to see him in person, to view THE CUTEST DOG IN THE WHOLE WORLD a.k.a Otis, my recently deceased Yorkie of 14 years.

So I saved the picture in .jpg format and inserted the tag into the html code and pressed “publish”. I went to go check it out and there was a big empty square and no cute scruffy dog face. I fiddled around some more. About 10 times. Every time it was the same thing: blank empty square mocking me and my weak website creation skills. I quickly deleted all evidence each time (I didn’t want people to think I was an incompetent photo blogger, a moot point now I guess). I was about to throw my mouse across the room, but decided to ask Google for help instead.

So, supposedly you have to download something to host your pictures. Is this true?

Anyways, I know Blogger offers this download for free, but I don’t think it would be a “smart move” on my part to download it from my work computer. I guess I’ll have to wait until I can scam someone else’s (READ: Mr.P’s) computer to do this... until then, think of the cutest dog you’ve ever seen and multiply it by 10 (maybe 13, depending on what your idea of “cute” is).

Speaking of pictures, I’m considering posting one of little ol’ me. So, until then think of the hottest girl you’ve ever seen and multiply her by 10 (maybe 13, depending on what your idea of “hot” is). Ha ha ha…kidding.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Fortune Cookie

Is it just me or is this fortune...

A friend is a present you give yourself.

...more like a riddle wrapped in an enigma.
Seriously. I just don't get it.

Do you brush your teeth at work?


Could it be?

I think I’m in love.

It was one week ago when I first caught you staring at me from behind the large store window.
You have been the only thing on my mind since then.
I resisted you for seven days.
I thought you were too good for me, too rich.
I went in yesterday just to take a closer look, just to take a peak.

I asked if I could touch you, look at you from the inside.
You were more fabulous than I could have ever imagined.
You pink satin insides were perfect and the design of your exterior made my heart melt.
It took only these words, “one of a kind...hand made”, to make me say I’ll take you.

We look perfect together.
I feel complete with you on my arm.

This is love.

Day 1

Today is Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent).

So far I have been tempted by:
1. A box of bakery treats located at the entrance of the office.
2. A bowl of special Chinese candies sitting next to the pastries.
3. The flask of whiskey in my desk.

*it's going to be a looooong forty days...*

Tuesday, February 08, 2005


I should probably drink more water...

At approximately 1:00 in the morning (after 3 peaceful hours of sleep) I woke up and realised:

a. It was unbearably hot in my bedroom
b. I was desperately thirsty.
c. I had to pee…

This is what happened next:

1. I mentally devised a plan of action (water then toilet).
2. I stumbled out of bed.
3. Woke up my roommate who had fallen asleep on the couch.
4. Had a “conversation” with my roommate who was also half asleep:
“I was sleeping”…”Me too”…”Need water”…”I gotta go to bed”…
5. Stumbled to the *kitchen and poured myself a cold glass of water.
6. Stumbled to the bathroom (forgot to shut the door…whatever)
7. Stumbled back to bed and decided that it would be neat to sleep with my head on the opposite end of the bed.
8. Woke up in this position with no pillow (it had fallen on the floor).
9. Thought to myself “WTF”?

*Euphemism for a 5’ by 3’ space with a sink, microwave and stove.

Monday, February 07, 2005

You're Betty Boop!
Bettie Boop

Who 's Your Inner Sexy Cartoon Chick ?
brought to you by Quizilla

Of Course.

I saw a man running this morning and he reminded me of you.

I met you on “the boat”. Do you remember? Of course you do.
It was my second summer on that top-sail schooner. It was your first.
I didn’t know who you were, but Jenna did.
We were only 15. You must have been 16.
I remember how happy I was when I knew you would be in the same “watch” as me.
I remember thinking how perfect you were. Your body. Your personality. Everything.
All of us had a crush on you. Did you know? Of course you did.

After the boat we would call you. Like the silly schoolgirls we were.
You were always kind. Always polite.

It would be six years before I would see you again.
Do you remember that night? Probably not. You had been drinking too much.
I was about to leave the club when I saw you by the door.
It was like no time had passed at all.
But so much had changed.
You had changed.
And so had I.

I gave you a ride to your motel.
You asked if I would like to talk up there, in your room.
I gave you a knowing smile and said “No”.
You looked so sad, but your eyes seemed so empty. You asked again.
I laughed; your intentions so obvious.
But I had changed.
And so had you.

I was no longer the silly schoolgirl hanging on your every word.
You were no longer perfect. It was then I realised you never were.

I waited until I could no longer see you to slowly pull the car away.
Do you remember the sound of my car driving away?
Away from you?
Of course you don’t.
But I do.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

What the h*ck? & Comic books

umm...hello?... What's going on guys? So far, Sean is the only person who has answered my survey (BTW thanks!)?...I'm going on a writing strike to express my displeasure about the situation. But, before I do, I just wanted to tell you that DD, Lexi and I have collaborated together and have spawned the next ultra cool comic book series. I'm going to keep my lips shut tight for now, but you may see the first strip in about a month. I just hope it doesn't turn out like our "Single's Bar Guide to Vancouver" coffee table book...anyways, answer the survey. I feel like a dweeb.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Come on, indulge me :)

Since I can’t blog on weekends and it’s been a while since my last reader check-up/poll (if you played the game before, thanks, but you have to play it again ok?), I thought I’d end the day with something for everyone to participate in and I always like to learn more about YOU…yes, you! Like last time, just copy and past the questions in the comments section :) You don’t have to answer all of the questions, if you don’t want to, and I will blogroll all recommended blogs.

Astrological sign:
Recommended blog reading:
Whose picture(s) (if any) do you carry around in your wallet?:
Favourite cartoon as a child:
Describe your most embarrassing experience in three words (MINE: Recital. Piano. Medley):

40 days and 40 nights

Another year, another Lent. Yes, I’m Catholic. I was baptised as a baby without my written consent and ever since then have been plagued with something DD and I like to call “Catholic Guilt” a.k.a. my mom. He he he…just kidding mama. I love you!

In my sinful opinion, I’ve already done my time. Thirteen years (13.25 if you count the couple of months I spent in the kindergarten class when I was 4 after my nanny’s daughter stuck me in the closet…sort of explains a lot, no?) of private Catholic schooling. And now, even though I only grace the halls of church at Christmas and Easter (Yes, I’ve become a C&E Catholic), I have not completely rejected Catholicism, well actually it’s Catholicism that I have rejected…what I have not rejected is my belief in God and Jesus. So now, I celebrate what I feel is important and every year I celebrate Lent. Lent is the 40 days and 40 nights before Easter (the resurrection of Christ) and traditionally it is a time of fasting and sacrifice in honour of Christ’s eternal gift or something like that…Last year a gave up sweets for Lent…this year, I’m going a little more extreme:

Things Bryanna will not/will do for forty days and forty nights (starting next Wednesday a.k.a. Ash Wednesday).

Will not:
#1: Consume any alcohol whatsoever. (This one is easy because I only drink about twice/month)
#2: Consume any sort of sweets/junk food.

#3: Make all meals from home, ie no dining out. At all.
#4: Go for at least 3 runs/walks every week.

So, in the name of God, I’m going on a forty-day diet…
That lightening bolt was pretty close…he he he.

Stop talking for a second...

I must be going crazy.

Evidence #1: When I arrived home after work yesterday, my pick was exactly where it always is…on the bathroom counter. Huh?

Evidence #2: When I smelled the chicken before I was about to take it back…it did not smell. Well, actually, it smelled, but not the same funky smell the night before. Huh?

However, the voices in my head tell me I’m doing fine and that someone is reading this over my shoulder. Err… I gotta go.

Thursday, February 03, 2005


Where O where has my little pick gone? O where O where could it be? If anyone has seen my 80’s style large, blue hair pick could you please return it to me immediately. I had to brush my wet hair this morning with *gasp!* a HAIR BRUSH. Only long curly haired people can appreciate the true horror if this situation. I’m so confused…I used it just last night at approximately 5:45 p.m. and this morning it was MIA. I ran around the suite for about five minutes looking for it this morning, but to no avail. Maybe the funky chicken took it?

Funky Chicken

In case you wanted to know what Mr. P and I talk about, here’s a rough summary of a conversation we had last night…

“Is raw chicken supposed to smell like a*s?” I enquired.
“No”, he responded.
“Because I bought some chicken today and when I was re-packaging it into single portion sizes, I noticed that it smelled like…er…a*s”, I explained.
“It’s gone bad. Don’t eat it. Just take it back. Raw meat smells like…raw meat. It shouldn’t smell funky.”
“Umm…well…I’ll probably just throw it out”.
“No, take it back. They have to refund you for it. They sold you bad chicken,” responded Mr. P.
“Right. I just don’t think I’ll have time and I already put it in the freezer…umm and I just don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“They sold you bad meat and took your money. You probably shouldn’t buy your meat from there anymore.”
“Okay, I’ll try to bring it back tomorrow.” Mr. P gives me a look of doubt and disappointment.
“It felt funky too…not smooth and slimy, more like sticky and gooey.”

…This “funky chicken” conversation continued for about five more minutes until I finally promised to take the chicken back.

I took the chicken out of the freezer today and will be taking it back to B-L after work.
Just what a passive aggressive person loves to do.
Stupid funky chicken.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Squash, Squish, Sqoosh

The coming of spring means only one thing for basement dwellers such as myself …the return of the creepy, huge, albeit harmless, Wolf Spider.

Like my father and my sister AYG, I really am not a fan of the arachnid. I think they are fascinating…when seen on the TV, but in real life, they creep me out … A LOT. I think it has something to do with their eight hairy legs and their super fast running capability or perhaps the fact that they hang from something coming out of their butt … anyways, I just don’t like them. And to be honest, I don’t think they like me either.

Example #1: When I was in high school I noticed a large jumping spider in our kitchen before I went to school for the day. It looked cute, with its big eyes and little legs, so I decided to leave it alone. During dinner that night, I looked down to my lap and was horrified to find that this little jumping spider was just about to land in my lap. Seems it spent all day waiting for me to come home and when I did it hunted me like a lion hunts a zebra and decided to attack me from beneath the table. I squashed it.

Example #2: I used to iron my hair with my mom’s old school clothing iron. It was made of a shiny metal. As I was ironing my hair one day, I looked at the reflection in the iron and saw a spider suspended above me on its web…it was inching closer and closer. I squashed it.

In case these examples have not convinced you yet, I present:

Example #3: NMG will probably remember this. It was early summer. Cherry season time. I had just come in from picking a bucket full of cherries and was enjoying them and watching a soap with NMG. I was wearing a bathrobe and a sports bra. For about 10 minutes I could feel something sort of itchy on my arms and my chest. I had a terrible intuition that something was crawling around inside of my robe. I look down and all I saw was two creepy spider eyes looking up at me. From where? From inside my sports bra…right in the centre of my cleavage. I sprang from the couch…yelling expletives and other such garble. I threw off my robe and tried to flick the pervert of a spider out. When I realised that this was not going to work….I squashed him. Yup, right there in my bra…spider guts everywhere.

Just this Monday, I stumbled into the bathroom at 6:30 a.m. Not wearing my glasses, I noticed something about a foot away from me move. I knew what it was and just before it lunged at me I squashed it with a bottle of conditioner.

I know that house spiders are supposed to be a “good thing” because they eat other spiders and bugs and stuff, but come on! Who really allows spiders to roam freely in their house? Yuck! We even have horse chestnuts located around the suite because they supposedly scare off Wolf spiders. My questions is, where do they scare them off to? They’re already in the house!? I just hope it’s not my bedroom…my bedroom that does not have any horse chestnuts in it…ack! I’m going to have to do something about this when I get home.

Why settle for #3 when you could be #1?

Did you know that I’m the #3 search for “bryanna” on Google? How does this work? I want to be #1. Bryanna Clark Grogan, Vegan cookbook author, is a tough opponent though. How would I go about doing this?


This was disappointing. I've had bangs...they weren't me.
(Please rate my quiz)

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
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Tuesday, February 01, 2005


As I was, you know, doing my job this morning, I realised that I could never do this sort of thing for the rest of my life. Not that I ever expected my current Co-op position to be my life long career, but it hit me really hard that I could never wake up every morning to come into to work to do…well, “this”. What’s “this”? You’re probably wondering…well I’m not going to tell you because I do not want to offend anyone.

It was as I was doing “this” that I thought to myself, “Bryanna, what is it that you WANT to do for the rest of your life?”. When people used to ask me this question, I would scoff (in my head of course) and reply, “I’m way too young to know. I still have to finish my degree”. So now, I have two more semesters to complete until a have my Arts degree and one more Co-op 4 month work term. I’m getting my degree in Sociology with a minor in English (I’m still not sure if I want to keep the English minor). Any “job” that you could get “now-a-days” with such a degree is not a “job” that I would like to pursue, so I know for sure that I’ll have to go back to school one way or another…it’s this “what to go back for?” decision that has been very hard, thus far, for me to make…is it Education? Law school? Post Graduate studies? Journalism? Business? EEK! There are just too many choices!! I know the women who fought for these choices would be disappointed in me, but I can’t help it. The fact that there are SO MANY choices has prevented me from even making one. I’m so SCARED that I’ll make the WRONG choice and be stuck in a career that I HATE. I’m not saying that I have to LOVE my chosen career, but I would like to ENJOY it (at least some of the time).

*Gasp* ... *Gulp* I can’t breathe!

Why couldn’t I get paid for doing this? Writing in my Blog. I love writing in my Blog. I love the fact that I don’t have an Internet connection at home and therefore can be surprised by comments (if any) in the morning at work. I love the fact that people actually read this drivel and sometimes even enjoy it. I love the fact that I can easily and without any feelings of guilt vent my frustrations on unsuspecting anonymous commenters.

***** The smoke begins to clear *****

Huh? What am I talking about? I’m still WAY too young (I'm turning 22 in 6 weeks - better send me a present!) to have to care about such things…I have one more year of school to go, you know?…So STOP asking me what I’m going to do with the rest of my life! “Gawd!” (In my best Napoleon Dynamite voice).