Not sure who to vote for? Want to make an educated decision? Want to reinforce your opinion as to the compatability of your favorite candidate?

http://www.politicswatch.com/VoteSelectorQuiz2004.html

Simple, mindless, quick.
Vote smart.
(Thanks for the link Angela)

I've smoked three cigars in the past five days. Number four is sitting on my desk staring at me. She'll be gone by sundown.

Breakfast for the past three days has been various combinations of Tostitos, white and dark chocolate and brie.

I went to sleep at 6 in the morning after playing poker for 3 hours. I broke even. Completely, totally even.

Ways to stretch the money I have left for the next two weeks until I leave include:
-eating EVERYTHING WE HAVE LEFT. If anyone has recipes that require a kilogram of Quik powder and pesto I'm your girl
-sink laundry for shirts, shower laundry for pants
-vending machine meals (I amass change)
-finding new affordable ways to entertain myself (ie, throwing shit out my window onto the roof across the way, daydreaming and doing laundry to the Smiths)
-general thievery
-rationing EVERYTHING. Toothpaste, shampoo, toilet paper, conversation topics.
-not fixing my watch. this breaks my heart because I love that thing. I dropped it the other day and now it rattles. I am positive this is a bad idea, because travelling requires knowledge of the time but we've got to make sacrifices. Time is too expensive.


Oh, and I'm going to Spain. Because spending a week with Maria is profitable, no matter how you slice it.

Oh, and can someone vote NDP for me? I'm not registered as an absentee voter so I'm going to miss the election. I'm sure someone has one of those 'can't be bothered' type friends who doesn't plan on voting, so if you could just sweet-talk them into being my mouthpiece I'd appreciate it.

And while you're at it, rig the election so the Conservatives get negative votes and we get to throw them to the lions. Aircraft carriers? Wha?

I have the last of my Belgian exams tomorrow. Probably the last oral exam I'll ever do that's not defending a thesis or whatever (see how I just belittled the whole thesis defense process? The power of the word 'whatever' and it's dismissive properties are an as yet untapped resource in my regression to anxty teen). This whole oral exam phenomena is something that boggles my mind, as it is the least fair way I have ever come across or heard of to test the actual knowledge of people. It does, however allow a lot of wiggle room for those of us who can either: a)bullshit. b)improvise. c)smile cutely and lay on the charm. d)all of the above. Basically I'm sitting pretty in this system, but have many a friend who've been solidly screwed by it.
The dutch have a word that means forbidden, but permitted.

How it works: You study your ass off. Then, you sit down in a room with maybe three other people in it, one of whom is already talking to the professor is a big stage whisper that the rest of us are supposed to not hear. Anyhow, you get a slip of paper with two or three questions on it. You get about a half hour to scratch out some notes, then you go to the corner, sit with the prof and plow through the answers to these three questions. The questions are always PAINFULLY specific and allow little room for you to show any other knowledge you might have on other aspects of the class. Case in point: Luke had a massive course pack to study for a class, so he read all he could and left out the smallest section assuming he could pad his answers with material from the majority of the class. No such luck. Both questions he was asked were drawn from those eight pages. He failed.

So yeah, I'm not gonna miss the oral exam process. Especially because they're all 100% of the final course grade. Anyhow, this time tomorrow i'll be footloose (drunk) and fancy-free (drunk) and also finished my year of studying here. Weird.

Am I studying for tomorrow's exam? Which by the way is a master's class taught by one of the 'foremost ancient philosophy minds alive in continental europe'. Helllls no. I'm reading through Ben's ENTIRE ARCHIVE. And you know what? Fuck you Ben! That's a lot of material to read! But I guarantee you I'd ace the exam. And once I'm done this I'll probably pick someone from your list of links and then read all of THEIR archives too. Why? Because I've already exhausted all of Leigh's dvd collection (exhausted insofar as I can't handle another mafia movie or something starring Nicholas Cage without getting violent) and I've already bought the requisite two planks of chocolate to get me through what looks to end in an all nighter.

You know today's going to be a better day then yesterday when you yawn and your jaw hurts because of all the throwing up you did.

Earlier today I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair got cut a few days ago, and I was wearing glasses (because buying chocolate wearing glasses makes me feel like less of an addict) and all of a sudden I was 21. I've been 21 for 8 months. But today I LOOKED it. Which means I'm AGING. No good, no good at all. Also, I've pretty well ascertained that I suffer from migraines. I've had three now. Migraines are for old people. Or the annoying. It's very out of character for me to be a migraine sufferer. I'm sure there's been some kind of administrative snafu and things'll go back to normal once I'm back in Canada. I'm sure they meant to give me bigger breasts or something.

When my music's on random and a really good song comes up I always look at my computer with this touched expression, like it's trying to romance me or something.

A few days ago I recieved a compliment (I always carry them around this long, yes) on a part of my body that I never EVER get complimented on. (which pretty much is everything that isn't eyes and smile) I was wearing an old shredded pair of jeans and someone told me they made my ass look great. (Great! The word they used was great!) To which Morna, the expert on all things me, as it's fact that she looks at me way more than I do, added 'yeah, you're ass has gotten really good over the past while.' Now, I have no idea what that means, so I ask 'Good how?' And she says, slowly and thoughtfully...'Well, it hasn't gotten smaller...' So yeah. More junk in the trunk. Natch.

My mother just called me to tell me that the only way she's read to prevent migraines is to eliminate chocolate and caffeine. Might as well change my name and get a tail installed.

It's almost sealed that I'm back at improv camp in August. I'm pretty much living for this. My joints are caked with rust but a week of corraling highschool improvisers will have me running smooth in no time. Then, when I get back to O-town I'll hopefully have the gumption (what the hell does gumption mean anyway? I'm sure that's a word I use out of context all the time) to finally get the company I've created in my mind up and running.

Holy Crap, where has MacSweeney's been all my (procrastinating) life? Read everything. There'll be a quiz on Monday.

Okay, I'm not one to harp on the internet etiquette of others, obviously my penchance for not updating for weeks at a time is open for criticism, but when it comes to instant messenger systems, I'm usually quite refined.

I'm a supporter of MSN. I used to be an ICQ kid, but not being one to turn her back on the future I gladly switched over to MSN when told that, well, all the cool kids were doing it. In changing systems I wisely allowed a period of overlap where I could transfer all the desired contacts and let the undesirables slip through the cracks. I had amassed quite a few unsavory internet friends over the two years I dabbled with ICQ, which is partly the fault of the psychos trolling for 14 year old friends and partly my fault. I went throught this particularily awkward and confused period in my life I like to call '13'. Thanks to my '13' period (similar to Picasso's Blue Period) I also have a Yahoo profile in which my nickname is something disgusting like 'Supergrrl' and I describe myself as 13 going on 30.Okay, so maybe the psycho quotient was so high because I was fucking ASKING for it. It's still out there because I have no clue how to deactivate it. But I digress.

I like the little green torso and head they use. I like the fact that they allow you to hide. I like that I can see pictures of people at home. I don't like some of the dunces who use it. Now, I'm not sure the exact etymology of the word dunce, so I'm going to define it here and now and let that definition be the stamped, no erasies definition from here on in. A dunce is someone who uses their MSN name to keep you up to date on their whereabouts at all times, regardless of how trivial or brief their time away from the computer may be. Exemple: Dunce* washing my car.

Ahem, WHO FUCKING CARES? Seriously. I'm one who leaves her MSN on all day as I usually am listening to music or staring blankly at an open Word document, but never EVER to I keep people up to date as to what I'm doing when I'm away from the computer. Why? Cause that's what 'AWAY' means. I mean, if you're gonna show off about something, or complain about something, that's one thing. I've been known to announce to the MSN public that I'm studying for exams, or writing a paper, but that's when I'm actually online and can field questions.

I can just imagine Dunce, or maybe, Duncette leaving her computer, sprinting outside to wash her car, then sprinting back in and changing her name to tell people that now she's making Kraft Dinner with hot dogs in it. Then changing it to EATING Kraft dinner with hot dogs in it. Keeping us up to date on the verbs of her life. In this same thought experiment I reach through the screen, grab her by her shirt collar and shove her backwards over her chair. Just reading 'washing my car' pisses me off because it presumes that I care. I don't care.

I'm also a wee bit irate about this whole exam thing. Can you tell?




*name changed to protect the innocent

The other night to take a break from the ridiculous study habits I've developped (ridiculous in that I spend huge chunks of my day in the library-STUDYING) we went to rent a movie. The choice came down between Spun, some junkie movie, or How to Deal, a Mandy Moore movie.

Our choice resulted in both Morna and I replacing all the expletives in our lexicon (and let me tell you, there were LOTS) with a simple declaratory 'Mandy MOORE!' to express our distaste for something. I'm sure Jesus is happy with us finally letting him off the hook.

Exams and the slow, agonizing winding down of this year has removed both my creativity and massive amounts of time from my day, so no shenanigans or posts I'm afraid. But we all knew this wouldn't last forever.

Also, I hate all the music I brought with me here. And all my clothes. I'm freaking sick of it all. 10 months later and I hope the cash fairy is waiting for me at the airport so I can go buy all new shwag and music, cause Mandy Moore do I need a stuff-revamping.