I miss my dad.

I promised you a story, so here you go:

I’ve long since shared my shame of not graduating high school, and although I do have a college diploma, part of it is a sham as well.

In college, I found that being first in all my classes was pretty awesome. I sailed through my first term with a 97% average – the lowest mark on my collegiate report card was an A. I correctly assumed that I was pretty excellent, and continued about my post-secondary education with a sense of satisfaction and that thrill that comes from knowing you are kicking everyone’s ass and they kind of hate you for it.

Second term rolls around, and things are more of the same – I am awesome, my computer skills are not to be reckoned with, and my years of pre-internet online chatting enabled me to take my typing final exam on the first day of class and I finished the course with 105% (I got extra % because I am extra awesome). Everything is great. I am bursting with confidence and sass. I was ready to take over the world, and nothing could stop my awesome Office Administration Power!!!11one.

Then my Accounting class started.

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Curses! I had a bit of a headache when I got home from work – something about office politics being a fucking parasite on my brain – so I went to relax for a little bit.

Unfortunately, I relaxed a little too hard and woke up three hours later – sure, completely refreshed, but having wasted my entire evening with the devious Nap Beast. Now I’m frantically running around trying to do everything I meant to do this evening, as well as eat something more vitamin-complex than peanut butter licked off a spoon.

I’m amusing myself by reading the plot synopses of Korean horror films. In the write-up for this film (which is a British adaptation of a Korean short), a typo turned the entire thing from gruesome to oh god I think I’m dying from the sheer hilarity of it all:

The girl unexpectantly dies soon after, presumably from a raptured uterus.

Okay, so it should be “unexpectedly” instead of “unexpectantly”, but dang – if I had to die soon after, dying of a raptured uterus would definitely be the way to go.

Hee!

For a thousand different reasons, I haven’t had a stereo in the bedroom since I left my parent’s house. Today during the Great Rearrange of ’07, I put our little-used spare room stereo in the bedroom.

It’s like a whole new world in there. Not only can I listen to music, I can drown out my horrible neighbour’s horrible voice. Seriously, it’s like the clouds parted and angels broke into chorus and the sun beamed down some glorious golden light made of pixie dust and daydreams – I can’t hear my horrible neighbour! I can’t hear her cackle! I can’t hear her sing along to her terrible music! I can’t hear every detail of her phone calls, or listen to her talk to herself or anyone else within earshot! I can’t hear her moan or squeal or anything! I may have to listen to music ALL THE TIME now!

It is beyond disturbing to stumble across Facebook pictures of your little tiny niece* holding a giant purple dildo. It’s not that I object to the dildo – god knows I’m all for giant purple sex toys that look more like tree trunks than the penis they’re supposed to replace – but dude, she’s my niece. Isn’t she still , like, 7? Put that strap-on down and go play with your dolls!

*Okay, so she’ll actually turn 26 this month – STILL. I am scandalized.

Surprise cereal is the BEST. I woke up craving a big bowl of my beloved Special K with Berries, but I distinctly remember finishing the last of the box earlier this week. I had resigned myself to having a bowl of Multi-Grain Cheerios and was reaching for the box when I found a completely unopened box of SKwRB! It is extra delicious because it is unexpected! Hooray for surprise cereal!

I have no idea what to do today.

Today (or maybe yesterday or Monday, we’re not really sure) our tiny Hobble Kazoo is two years old. Over the course of the last couple years, he has changed a lot. He’s still playful and adorable and totally gay for Ed, but he’s also loving and rambunctious and the size of a small country. See for yourselves!

Hobble Kazoo at 7 weeks old:

Hobble Kazoo at 2 years old:

As you can see in the first image, Hobble is a tiny kitten that is almost dwarfed by the two toy mice we put on his back. However, in the second image, you can see that Hobble is a giant monster who threatens to devour all that you hold dear: for size comparison, I hoisted a mack truck onto his back so you can see the awesome size of this enormous beast. I fear that one day in the night, he will eat my face. Already he has been tasting Ed nightly to see if he is quite ripe enough to eat – soon, this giant feline will rend us limb from limb should he feel a mite peckish between his 18 daily feedings.

I think for his birthday, he would enjoy a puppy to play with!

I’m cold, hungry, tired, and there are wolves after me.

The rain we had been threatened with has made an appearance, so it’s good that I did not ride Sally to work today. However, I desperately wish I was wearing pants, because it is very cold in my office and I have to go outside to get some food soon so I will be even colder. My life is SO HARD. I should complain about it some more.

Today is my mom’s birthday. She got herself a birthday present over the weekend, of sorts – she viewed and rented an apartment near Hillside Mall in Victoria. I still get good daughter points; the place she ended up with is one that I found for her to call. It’s vacant now, so she can move in at any time. Ed and I were planning a painting trip; we’d go to Victoria and paint the place for her so it’s all shiny and new. Thing is, it was painted less than 6 months ago and apparently is quite nice as is – we talked to her new landlord already, who said that everything was recently renovated and the walls painted by an artist who made everything all pretty. I have another idea, though – as a belated birthday/house warming present, we’ll go over and clean the place real good, then buy her whatever apartment necessities she’ll need. The place has no carpet, so a Swiffer is in order – as well as power bars, maybe some plants, environmentally friendly light bulbs, etc.

I’m pretty excited for her (and for me, since this means she won’t be calling me nightly to complain that apartment hunting is too hard). Her landlord sounds pretty cool, and I hope everything will go smoothly for the move. We’ll be making at least two trips to the island shortly, and I may take a few days off to help move/setup things. There’s some coordinating to be done, but it’s all good.

If Ed asks, I absolutely have not been in contact with the puzu breeder and am not getting pictures of the new litter this week; the litter that is definitely not available for adoption at the beginning of July. Nope, not at all. Don’t you trust me?

I have a very, very bad headache. I wrote a brief recap of our Saturday, but when I reread it I realized I was typing in tongues so I deleted it.

OH SHIT NO! Our new downstairs neighbours just brought home the puppy they mentioned they were getting, and OH OH OH I THINK IT’S A PUG!

Time to go steal a puppy!

Update: OH OH OH PUPPY! It’s actually a Puzu, which is a cross-breed of a pug and a shih-tzu. Naturally I’ve been doing research like mad, since my attempted theft of said puppy was unsuccessful – the puppies can lean either way, looking more like a shih-tzu or like a pug (such as Milo downstairs). So. Fucking. Adorable. He fell asleep on my boob and smelled like a puppy and looks like a pug and is so cute I could just cry. I’m now researching the hell out of the breed, since I didn’t know they existed and way back when, before I fell in love with pugs, I was actually considering a shih-tzu puppy. Also, our new neighbour got him from a breeder in Merritt, and it cost about a 3rd of what a pug would cost me here.

As you might be able to tell from my fast typing, I am doing some extremely fast talking to get Ed swayed to the Puzu side of the force.

SO CUTE.

*love*!