This is my list of words that make me happy.

whimsical.
unfathomable.
knackered.
fisticuffs.
kthxbye.
shifty.
kerfuffle.
audacity.
fruity.
the wiggins.
neon.
mischievous.
quirky.
snicker.
indignant.
shuck.
topsy-turvy.
whippersnapper.
squelch.
fruit loop.
lickety-split.
persnickety.
snark.
eight.
quibble.
wicked.
newfangled.
scowl.
snickerdoodle.
cheesy.
cowabunga.
frolic. h
anky panky.
doofus.
guffaw.
smug.
douse.
bicker.
hullabaloo.
spunky.
buffoonery.
smidgen.
tousled.

Someday, I will announce my intention to engage in fisticuffs. And then I will giggle madly and get beaten up but it will be worth it.

My Philosophy teacher liked to use the phrase "profoundly trivial." I found his class profoundly trivial.

This semestre, I had a lot of information zipping around in my head. Most of the time, I kept it to myself because no one really wants to know that Canada's first prison was built in Kingston, Ontario, but sometimes it slipped out.

Once at a birthday party, I got drunk and kept shouting "Taste aversion! Taste aversion!" (thanks Psych 1100!). That was also the night I convinced someone there's only six continents. 'Cause Europe doesn't count.

I now officially unofficially have an Associates degree in Creative Writing. That'll get me a job, right?

Three Things That Are Maybe Not Really Related

1) The other day I went on a treasure hunt to find an art show. We had to ask for directions though because the gallery was hidden in a convenience store and who looks in a convenience store for an art show?

2) My friend and I went dress shopping in a cute little boutique with swaths of tulle and beading and satin in the window.

Except I had a problem. This cute little boutique insists that people take their shoes off at the door. No! I don't want to take my shoes off, this is a store not a living room!

That lasted until I noticed the darling white and pink cocktail dress in the other window. Then we hunkered inside and slipped our shoes off. Well, my friend slipped her shoes off and I leaned against the doorframe and heaved my boots off. There was some grunting involved. And then, my mismatched socks were on display.

One had red and white polka dots and the other was olive green with little green tuffs all over.

Whoops.

3) I began reading Confessions of A Pioneer Woman yesterday. It's written by a city girl (like me!) who loves high heels and Starbucks (like me!) who married a rancher and lives on a farm (like...oh). She wrote a novel on how she met and married her husband and posted the entire thing on her blog. As of 1:48am this morning, I have read the entire thing. Can't wait for the movie.

I read it because she's funny and weird and because I wanted to understand how exactly she went from city girl to wife of a rancher. And because I know there's a happy ending. There's nothing worse than a quirky start with a weepy ending.

I'm looking at you, Jon and Kate.

I'm still a playwright. But this way I'll also be employed.

Reasons Why I Should Not Be A Lawyer:
1) Everyone hates them.
2) I'll still be a student when I'm twenty six.
3) There's a bar exam, which has nothing to do with drinking.

Reasons Why I Should Be A Lawyer:
1) I'll be called a doctor.

Decision made. Stay tuned for the revamp of this blog, soon to be called 'The Ousted Doctor.'

This post is neither witty nor whimsical nor gramatically correct.

This post is rhubarb. Specifically Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.

 Like this. Does rhubarb have a peel like oranges or skin like carrots?

 Okay, I lied. There's also strawberries.

I have several hundred versions of this shot. I love the colours! Also, I was listening to Shrek: The Musical soundtrack at the time and it totally distracted me from moving on.

I didn't take any pictures after my the pie was baked though because I was too busy stuffing my face--I mean, um, because the lighting was bad. Yeah.

If I had to live with only one maybe-fruit-maybe-vegetable, I would choose rhubarb. No contest.

because librarians are total snobs

Today, I found "Shrek: the Musical" soundtrack at the library and after I finished squealing,  I had to scramble about to find a novel decent enough to counter a singing ogre so the librarian wouldn't judge me.

Because I'm self-sacrificing like that.

I decided to make cookies to take to my guaranteed-stressful meeting tomorrow so it would be guaranteed-stressful with snacks.

My Lemon Thumbprints turned into Burnt Shortbread though. That's why I ate five of them. To be sure they weren't salvageable. Yeah.

danse la cachucha, fandero bolero, Xeres will drink manzanilla montero!

Making Mac n' Cheese at midnight after rehearsal, dancing around the kitchen going step scuff heel, step scuff heel with my arms above my heads like a rookie bullfighter (should probably close the blinds).

Cachucha, I will tame you.

This is why I pay tuition.

My world went upside-down. I couldn't figure out why my partner was dropping her arm in front of my face and wiggling her fingers like a bad mime when I recognized the Legally Blonde nail polish and, oh crap that's my arm. And it's coming from the ceiling.

The goggles are designed with a mirror to flip everything but they require you to tilt your head up to see at eye-level. Otherwise you stare at the ceiling. It's a very dull ceiling. I had to make a conscious effort to look up (down?) to my partner's face and when she offered me the marker, I reached towards her boob. Whoops. She put the marker in my hand and positioned me in front of the board.

My task was to outline the star drawn on the board with the black marker. How hard can that be?

Really hard. Really really hard. My hand was crawling along the board, looking like Thing from The Addams Family but with pretty nails.

I managed to outline one and a half points before go down, no I said down, that's the left, the point is right there, wtf Thing, you're drawing half-assed lightning bolts! became too much and I took the goggles off.

Woah. Woozy.

(Isn't Psych class fun?)



Replace the house with a star.



What? No, it's not for ME, it's, uh, for one of my...characters. Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

I just googled how to remove security tags from clothing.

Shit My Teachers Taught Me

During my third semestre of post-secondary, I took Calculus.

Every time the Prof said, 'you'll remember this from Pre-Calc,' I got scared. I didn't take Pre-Calc. I took high school math. One time Prof said this and then proceeded to use long division on a polynomial. Long division! Mind blown!

I survived this class so I'm pretty much tickled pink. It wasn't easy. I had to mingle with science majors and attempt to laugh at Physics jokes like "What's the derivative of acceleration called?" "Jerk." "Don't call me a jerk!"

Riiight. Bazinga.

This is also the guy that said, "assume a cow is a sphere."

Here are some pictures to show my dedication to this class during the semestre:



Both y and x must be defined at the point in question.

If not, shit happens.

Awww...yeah. I stopped paying attention twenty minutes ago.
Fuck, I hate snow. And handwriting. And green.



This is a diagram. That is not a daisy.
That is a man with a top hat and a smoking pipe. 



Derivatives will come up in casual conversation some day and all will be worth it, right?

Near the lonely knoll I weep...

Excuse me, I have to go change into somber clothing.