indefinite (adj.) 1: vague or not clearly defined or stated; 2: not decided or not known

hiatus (n.) 1: an interruption in the intensity or amount of something; 2: a missing piece

how could you?

- i have decided, upon much consideration, that the way that i would least like to die would be to be papercutted so many times that i bled to death.

- really. that would suck. a lot.

the deep end

- it was a dark and stormy morning and i awoke in a pool of liquid. at first, i wondered if the liquid was my own blood, but alas, the liquid was not red.

- next, i pondered the possibility that my room had been flooded. i do live in the basement of a rather large building, and other unhealthy outcomes have resulted from said situation (copious amounts of festering mould being the most obvious of examples). however, it was just my face submerged in this mysterious liquid, and so a flooding would not really explain the situation.

- i then thought that perhaps i had left an open bottle of juice next to my head, and somehow in the middle of the night poured it all over my face. i licked my lips. this was not delicious, and therefore it could not have been juice, as we all know that juice is delicious.

- finally, i gave up on being all intellectual-like and decided to open my eyes to inspect the liquid. it was drool. i am disgusting.

treasure hunt

- when i was about eight years old, i read a book about a boy who gets caught picking his nose in font of the whole class and gets teased until the point where he does a research project on it and finds out that everyone picks their nose.

- and really, why wouldn't we all pick our noses? sometimes you just get the really crusty ones that latch on to your inner olfactory unit and refuse to let go. why? i don't know. i can't imagine it's really all that pleasant, what with the hair and the constant wind and such. anyhow, these crusties are just a pain in the bum, and occasionally they cause us to hurt. and we can blow our noses all we want, they just hold on tighter, just to spite us. but our fingers? perfect size.

- so go on, get it up there. dig around a bit. see what you can find. just don't do it in front of the whole class.

afraid of heights

- up and down, up and down. the steady motion of vertical rhythm, sending me to sleep. i feel like i'm in a rocking chair; someone sing me a lullaby.

- i have a thought.

- i look over at jenn and ask, "can you tell that i'm clenching and unclenching my bum?"

spoiled rotten

- upon receiving change from shopping a while ago (shopping is a rare occurrence as a student), i noticed how dirty some coins can be. the loonie (one dollar coin, for all the non-canadians out there) at which i looked was completely moulded

- so moulded, in fact, that i was forced to truly peer at it in order to identify it as a loonie. - to me, this was disgusting.

- 'how does money get like this?' i thought. 'what must people do in order to make money this gross?'

- i pondered all of the interactions that money must have with people, and i realized that money really is communal. very communal. too communal. really. we wear sandals in community showers, why aren't we wearing gloves to handle our money?

- i mean, i don't typically do disgusting things to my money. really, i don't. but we all know that there are plenty of unhygenic people in the world. and snot-nosed children. and old people who can't control their salivation. and all that stuff gets on the money. and that's gross.

- "down with everyone who's gross!" i was about to declare. but, then i realized that when i don't have pockets i put coins in my socks to hold on to them.

- and for that, i'm sorry. so very, very sorry.

the wings of life

- normally, i'm a lazy pile, so imagine my surprise when i said to my roommate last night, "hey, wanna go for a run tomorrow?" what was even more surprising was that when she replied in the affirmative (i'm not kidding, she actually said, "affirmative, sir"**).

- and then, this morning, i actually got up. and i actually put my hair up and brushed my teeth. hell, i even rolled on some deodorant. and really, once all that shit's done, you can't just not go for a run, no matter how lazy you are.

- so we went. and it was awesome.

- she listens to her music, so she was off in her own world and left me to mine. this gave me plenty of time to concentrate on everything that was going on. i wasn't wearing my contacts or glasses (read: i couldn't see, more or less), so i was really focusing on my other senses.

- it sounded like the morning; very few voices but plenty of birds. it smelled like fresh; everything was waking up new and different from the day before. it tasted like clean; no dirty deeds had been done today.

- it felt like strength; the power of my movements reminded me that it's not hard to just keep going. everyone does it. but what you ought to strive to do is to want to keep going. enjoy everything, because everything is worth enjoying. enjoy the sound of your footsteps and the smell of your own sweat mingled with the bittersweet aroma of coffee. enjoy the taste of the air, not because it tastes like anything in particular, but because it's everywhere and if you enjoy it, you will always have something to appreciate. enjoy the sound of the garbage truck at five o'clock in the morning because it means someone is doing something for you - they're taking care of you. enjoy papercuts, because they remind you how little things can have big effects. enjoy water, not because it makes you healthy, but because it's natural and pure and clean. enjoy pictures of friends, and pictures of enemies, and pictures of animals and trees and statues and poo, because there is beauty in everything.

- even in you.

**utter bullshit.

living in the shadows

- when i was little, my mother really tried to promote a healthy lifestyle.

- for the most part, it was great. i got to go to the park and run around whenever i wanted, and i got spoiled with kites and frisbees and balls and all sorts of other athleticly stimulating delights. i always had fun at recess, and while she would gently chide me for ruining the knees in my pants, i knew she was secretly glad that i had been doing something adventurous. and that kicked ass.

- the problem came at lunch time. all the students in my class would gather chairs in the back of the classroom and sit in an oblong ring and eat our lunches while excitedly discussing all of the games we would play with our upcoming outdoor time.

- looking around me at those times, i would always see the kids with their adorable packaged lunches and the cute treats that went along with them. lunchables and puddings and fruit roll ups and gushers and even those individual sized bags of chips. and then i would look at my lunch and see an uninspiring peanut butter and jam sandwich next to some grapes wrapped in saran wrap. - don't get me wrong, both of those items are delicious and are in fact still part of many of my favourite lunches today. they just weren't cool.

- looking back, i really think that i can identify this as one of the sources of my inferiority problems. damn them all and their dunkaroos!

and then it was the end

- today, whilst purchasing a product from a store, the woman who was kind enough to take our money greeted both my mother and myself.

- "how are you doing this aft?"

- are you kidding? this aft? i hate short forms while having internet discussions, so you can imagine how badly i wanted to rip out her trachea as it splurted out of her dirty, dirty mouth.

- it's TWO SYLLABLES. just two.

- if you really have a hard time pronouncing them, i'll give you an extra two to try on for size instead: just die.

everything is everything

- universities want students to get fat.

- proof:
- cost of a plate of fruit: $3.20
- cost of a plate of fries: $0.40

- that's right, folks, i can have eight plates of fries for the cost of one plate of fruit. fuck you, post secondary. and at the same time, thanks very much.

the beat of my...

- and as i stood in the hallway farting freely, only seconds from the door to my room, i realized that living in residence had stripped me of my last few ounces of shame.

- i'm unstoppable.

so says my pudding

- "now lower fat and meatless!"

i was thinking of you

- one of my closest friends is sikh. he has a lot of hair. mostly, his head hair is in a turban. his beard, however, hangs boldly and freely in front of his face.

- in general, this provides much fun, as i do not have a beard and somewhat wish that i did. they are so much fun to stroke. it makes me feel thoughtful.

- the other night, however, my eye was bothering me for quite some time. when i finally got home and had a chance to investigate, i removed my contact and examined it. sure enough, one of his beard hairs had made its way underneath my contact and had been rubbing itself against my eye all night.

- merry christmas to you too, kartar.

no glove, no love

- now that's it's christmas break, i've had some time to catch up. i was reading a book of lists. 'twas the title of the list which first caught mine eye: average size of erect penis for various species, it said. at first, i tried to restrain, telling myself that i wasn't a pervert. but i am a pervert. so i read the list with great interest.

- the key points: the average length of an erect penis of an elephant is ten feet. as a comparison, the tallest man who ever lived (robert pershing wadlow, for those who are interested) was 8 feet 11 inches. and he was more or less a giant, having the disease 'giantism' or something like that.

- there is a species of duck (i'm at a loss for the specific name) that, on average, is sixteen inches in length. the average length of its erect penis is seventeen inches. did anyone else just picture that? was it way more ridiculous than it was impressive? yeah, me too.

- final point (and redeeming point, for those males in the audience): the average length of a gorilla's erect penis is two inches. that's slightly bigger than my pinky, but not by much.

- final final point: i really wish that i had talked about a rhinoceros, or possibly a dinosaur, so that i could make a pun about being horny.

you shouldn't have

- this weekend, it was thanksgiving for all those who live north of the 42nd parallel and west of the atlantic ocean and who are not in alaska.

- man, am i thankful.

- i am thankful for my family. i am thankful that my uncle fondly refers to my sister as "boozey." i am thankful that my other sister sprays whipped cream into my cleavage then mooshes it into my boobs. i am thankful that a vast majority of the jokes in my family involve my mother giving the middle finger.

- i am thankful for my friends. i am thankful that we take time out of our day to search for the emperor's new groove so that we can have the pleasure of watching it. i am thankful that my friends try (and fail) to help me with physics, and that the only question i got right with all of us working on it collectively was the one that i made up a number for the answer. i am thankful that when we only have an hour left of our vacation, we get together and play mario kart on n64.

- i am thankful for hockey. i am thankful that the hockey night theme song can come on and make me so happy that a tear comes to mine eye. i am thankful that my favourite team can lose their first three games and that i'm not worried because at least they're playing. i'm thankful that they will start winning, because i said so.

- but mostly, i'm thankful for that leftover piece of apple pie that i had for breakfast this morning.

hear me roar

- sometimes, i really just like to sleep on the floor. whether there's a bed or not. no blankets, no pillows, no sleeping bags

- those are for people who are not manly. like, perhaps, women. but a woman i am not!

- i can't really explain it at all, but sleeping on the floor just seems natural, once in a while. i mean, eventually you'd get all sorts of crazy back problems and because a crouchy person, or at least i assume so, cause that's what happened back when beds weren't comfy, but once in a while, it's worth it.

- i guess maybe it's the idea of being able to comfort yourself without the use of pillows or blankets or any of the other silly things that give us a false sense of security. it's nice to think in a world of so many dependencies, one can still be a little self-reliant.

- but the next night, the bed is where it's at.

success!

- operation poo has been completed. no casualities were had. party time!

to win or not to win

- so i'm moved in, and i'm starting to get accustomed to the loudness and the drunkenness and the constant music. i even walked to the showers in just my bathrobe this morning, and while i'm a fan of nakedness, others are not generally a fan of it on me, so that was quite the achievement.

- there were two things that disturbed me very much about the whole washroom experience, though.

- firstly, in our washroom, which has clearly been designated as a women's washroom according to the large imposing sign that states "women," there is a urinal. that's right, i said it, a urinal. i'm not sure if perhaps the makers of the women's washroom were unaware, but urinals are useless to those of us who carry vaginas around in our pants. you know why? we have no directional control, hence the pee would not go in the urinal but instead most likely down our leg. therefore, down with urinals.

- secondly, i can't poo in public places. i can't even say a dirtier word for poo when it has to do with me and public places. it just doesn't come out. i'm too afraid. the washrooms? very public. also very much like a place. therefore no pooing for me. i'm a little nervous to find out how this is going to work out.

- something that's not very disturbing? oh, that would be the sign inside of the stall the quite determined-ly states, "winners flush!"

- i'm a winner.

itsy bitsy spider

- as i'm sure most you know, the average person eats somewhere in the vicinity of nine spiders a year in their sleep.

- sometimes i wake up in the morning and immediately think, "wow, i must have had a real big juicy one last night."

better than cocaine. and by better, i mean worse.

- i'm having one of those nights right now where, if i was really really hella uber nerdy, i might say that i was "high on life." but really, i'm not quite that nerdy, although i am borderline that nerdy, but still i'm not quite there, so i won't say that. everything seems to be ten times more hilarious than it really should, and all the colours seem to be brighter even though it's dark and because of the cones in my eyes needing light to see colour i can't see colour, it still seems to work out that they're brighter. obviously there's something wrong with me because i'm not completely coherent, but i don't think anyone will mind.

- my friends and i played balderdash tonight. balderdash is a game where you have a card with the name of a thing or a person or a time or a movie or an acronym, and the true answer is ridiculous, and everyone writes down their own answer and they're all read out along with the real one and you have to guess which one is the right answer. i don't know if that makes sense at all. anyway, at one point tonight, the word was paddlecock, and while it wasn't the real answer, this one was my favourite: the term originated when the english, paddling in canoes, would frighten the paddlers into submission by yelling, 'paddle harder, you cock suckers.' the insult was later shortened into simply 'paddlecock.'

- you're a paddlecock.

- also? again with my friends (how are we such absurd people)... tonight we actually had the following two conversations.

- conversation #1: while in a parking lot, i noticed that the balderdash game that i had placed in the back of the van was now in the middle of the van.
heather: why hello there, balderdash, how did you get up here?
julie: well, i just sprouted legs and walked up here.
heather: and a voice box?
julie: and vocal cords.
heather: and a brain?
julie: and a central nervous system.
heather: so basically you became a person?
julie: yes, a box person. hello, my name is balderdash, i'm a box person.

- conversation #2: we were walking through the grocery store with kartar and julie flirting incessantly, me walking ahead of them.
heather: guys, sometimes being the third wheel sucks.
kartar: you're not the third wheel, we're just a three-wheeled vehicle.
julie: yeah, we're a tricycle!
heather: but i'm still the lonely front wheel.
(at this point, julie rushed up to walk next to be, leaving kartar alone behind us.)
kartar: okay, now we're just going backwards.

- okay yeah. i guess i am nerdy enough to say it. i'm high on life.