Seriously

Mona and Gresa’s birthday party was last night and it was good times because Mona and Gresa are amazing and everyone was fucking wasted. Now that I’m sober though I’ve realized I’m never going to Lot 332 ever fucking again.

It was a total sausagefest and a fucking deformed sausagefest at that. They only let moderately overweight bros in. This one guy was grinding a counter the whole night. Also their business practice is absolute shit. They varied the cover from minute to minute. We were all on the guestlist, but when we got there they basically said fuck you and made us all pay. I could deal with that if it wasn’t for the fact that they made Tori pay $10, me pay $15 and Tori’s friend pay $20. Then Chelsey showed up an hour later and told them she was on the guestlist and didn’t have to pay at all.

I went in after two girls with terrible fakes that said they were 22 and 25, respectively, who didn’t get shit at all, and when I hand the bouncer my I.D. he looks at me and says “Seriously?” Don’t you give me an incredulous look you fourth grade educated motherfucker. Its not my fault your ghetto ass has never been outside Peel region. Be thankful as the result of some sort of genetic mutation probably related to your unwed teenage mother’s crack habit that you’re built like a motherfucking Hutt and thus able to enjoy a temporary position of power.

I woke up at noon and watched videos of raccoons on YouTube for a couple hours, ate a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and have spent my day waiting for dinner.

3-6-9

My neck is still fucked only now its traveled down my shoulder. I went to health services this morning which was thankfully not as agonizing as it has been in the past. Apparently I have a pinched nerve. They told me to just keep using Sac Magique and stretch a lot and double the dose of ibuprofen I was taking.

I’m fucking in love with that Lady GaGa song and am now contemplating a career in dance pop.

I got one of those Starbucks frappucino things this morning and handed the guy T-Card and he’s like “Just to let you know this is $3.69” and I’m like fuck I did not want to know that.

According to online tracking my printer might show up today. If it does I’ll be so excited. It rocks that the warehouses for everything are in Mississauga.

What the Fuck Weekend

bellini with mermaid charm

So it was Janice’s 19th on Tuesday. We went to the Milestone’s at Yonge & Dundas. It was bellini Tuesday. It was amazing. I’m still jealous of Jessica though, who got a plastic mermaid figurine in hers. I got the more traditional blue plastic monkey, but at least I didn’t get the goat. The California spring salad never disappoints. I’m in love with their balcony bar, hopefully we get a chance to go out there before it gets too cold.

chocolate cake
After that we went back to Janice’s and created the most white trash scene I’ve witnessed. We set off the fire alarm with the birthday candles then dug into the cake armed only with forks (a hark back to Jessica’s 19th last year.) Janice strapped on her Life Sci lab goggles to uncork a $6 bottle of sparkling wine only to find that it was twist off. We took turns passing it around and taking swigs while blasting “A Milli.” Everyone was disgusted by it except for Jesse who just found it nostalgic as he apparently spent a good deal of last year getting drunk on $8 bottles of red wine.

I had class the next morning and went to bed, but apparently everyone else headed off to Molly’s and got fucked. They pulled Janice there in a child’s wagon and even brought a bike lock to lock it up outside when they went into the bar. Apparently she sang “Will the Sun Come Out Tomorrow” the entire way back.

sculpture of a mannequin in a neckbrace from circa nightclub in toronto

Friday was her birthday party. I’m never going to Circa on Gay Persian night again. $20 cover, we walked around for 45 minutes trying to find the rest of the group, found them, then left. Ended up getting a cab back with Paul, Jessica and Gresa who I’d just met an hour earlier. The cab driver was playing Punjabi music and Gresa starts yelling “I love Bollywood! Turn it up!” so we end up rocking out to MC Punjabi in the back of this cab, which was not even the first time I rocked out to MC Punjabi in a cab on the way back from Circa.
circa toronto crowd 2008
So we go back to res and I’m about to walk into the common room when Chelsey stops me and tells me that Boots is having sex in the there. Jessica opens the door, and from the darkness this ginger on top of Boots peers out at us. I’m pretty sure he was wearing pants but it doesn’t matter because it was horrifying anyway. Still, it was not enough to slow our trip to Molly’s. So we went to Molly’s, got drunk the right way, stayed until they kicked us out then went back to res when we realize they’re still fucking in there. So I start running and screaming that they’re having “gingercourse” in the common room, which is too much for Geoff who has a history of kicking the unwelcome out of the building. A ruckus is started, Boots and the Ginger end up leaving, though not before the Ginger tells Geoff that basically, he has won the battle but not the war. As in, he may have stopped him from fucking in the common room this time, but he would be back to fuck in the common room again. Which is ridiculous since he doesn’t even live there.

Yesterday, Mariah & I became obsessed with the YTV show “The Next Star.” It’s like a low budget and painfully positive American Idol for 10-14 year olds. Its hosted by Marco from Degrassi because apparently there is a law that states we must involve at least one Degrassi cast member in all media produced north of the 49th parallel. We both agree that Dunnery looks like a 30 year old lesbian. Go back to the Home Depot, Dunnery. We all know Maranda is going to win.

I saw Choke last night. It was fucking amazing. Then I got myself a box of Timbits and a steeped tea and watched Iron Chef.

So What

I’m obsessed with Pink’s “So What.” When it goes into the chorus, how can you not be excited. SO WHAT! I’M STILL A ROCKSTAR. I just sit back and go, yeah, you know what, I am a fucking rockstar. Blasting that through my headphones I was the most empowered girl walking to Introduction to International Relations yesterday. Between that and that Lady GaGa song, its just been positive times these past couple of months.

I’ve also developed some sort of fast-forming mega crush on Carey Hart after seeing the video for that song. The hair is a little gay, but so what. He kind of looks like a tatted up Raine Maida. I find it kind of bizarre that he’s in the video for a song that straight up calls him a tool, but I guess he’s getting paid, so good for him. I find it more bizarre that he and Pink seem to be genuinely comfortable around each other. I mean the hug he gives her at the end where he holds her head? So heartwarming, why did you ever get divorced.

These go to eleven

I’m eating my morning mini wheats and watching the replay of M.O.D. What fucking raver vomitted all over the M.O.D. set? It’s soooo hard to watch this. They’re making the audience sit on colored boxes that were clearly purchased at the children’s section of Ikea. I guess they have budgetary constraints. What the fuck is with the plexiglass boxes filled with Toki Doki crap? It’s like a 14 year old Whapanese girl took a mad shit and they encapsulated it in plastic.

On a happier front I’m totally warming up to Leah Miller’s haircut. The shorter bangs are working for her. Hannah Simone? Uh, not so much. She kind of looks like Nigel Tufnel from Spinal Tap.