i'm an audi tt... which means i rock

I'm an Audi TT!

You're not the fastest, nor the most nimble, but you're cute and you have style. You're not intensely competitive, but when you pass by, everyone turns to look.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz

gratuitous cat in box shots

you can never get enough of him... so here's another shot you can inject *right* into your aww stream. but no od'ing... i can't afford the liability insurance.

"have you never seen a cat in a box before? be gone with you."

"yes. i do fit into this box quite nicely, don't i? now if i... uh... shit. i'm stuck..."

"holy shit... what the hell was that?... did you just see that? o my god it was like as big as my head..."

things i observed on my ride to work

• riding in near hurricane force winds is hard... i don't suggest it to anyone
• almost everyone is an asshole... (obvious exceptions apply)
• no matter how fast you are going... you can't out run the rain

i also observed the forlon looking golden lab that sits at the entrance to his house every morning. you'd think he was guarding it, but i think really he's just sitting there waiting for his family to come back...

"any minute now... they're going to come around that corner... any minute... now.. no..... now. now.... now! damn it."

he makes me sad. i would stop to take a picture but i'm afraid he'll wander over with his sad puppy eyes and want to play and i might not be able to leave him alone...

*update*: i've also observed that certain expats (you know... forgeiners that move to your country and take over...) or people that are from here but move away (usually to england) and come back thinking that they're better than anyone else because they say "charming" and "darling" and "mists of time"... are phoney and irritate me in such a way that i would enjoy (to coin a phrase from jamie) grabbing anything sharp and stabbing it into THEIR ears... this probably wouldn't shut them up but at least they would know not to talk when they are around me.

the english accent (or fake-ccent) makes me violent.

"and then he had to go and do something fat"

i know most of you have probably already seen this but that is okay.

it's hilarious and deserves to be watched again and again and again.

http://www.devilducky.com/media/23894/

also. did anyone see vh1's web junk 20 volume 2? that shit was so funny... especially the one with the fat kid dancing...*giggle*... the comments were so great...

"he's like a chetah... a fat chetah... he's a cheeto... he's a whole bag a cheeto's!"

"and then he had to go and do something fat..."

http://www.darlugo.com/?id=426

the things that happen...

so... even though i'm like the world's safest rider... people continually do stoopid things around me and i get in trouble for it.

okay not so much in trouble but i had to take some flak yesterday cuz this stoopid bitch couldn't give me five *fucking* seconds.

FIVE SECONDS.

yes people. she was in that much of a rush in rush hour traffic.

so i'm waiting on my trusty steed to pull into the opposite lane to go home. traffic is heavy and my steed is slow so i waited until there was a a break in the oncoming traffic before i made my move.

so i see my opening in the other lane, and no one is coming towards me so i glide across the street and try to squeeze in so that no one slams into me on the other side.

but the bitch in the car behind me has other plans. she does NOT want to let me in. she is trying to be as close to the car in front of her as possible as well as trying to muscle my little self into the other lane so that on coming traffic might clip off my delicate extremities. the bitch.

so anyway. all the while i'm turning around giving her increadulous looks like, "bitch, what the fuck? are you TRYING to cause an accident??"
but to no avail. whatever she has to do she has to do it NOW and my life is insignificant to her purpose. i best get out of her damn way.

eventually i sqeezed in in front of her and was STOPPED. at. the. stop. sign.
read: not moving. wheels in a state of non-motion.

and she hit me!

hit. me.

i went from

to

in point two and a half seconds.

however, as much as i wish i had put my bike on the stand in the middle of rush hour traffic and really gave that woman a what for... i am a Wus with a capital W and my rage turns in on me instead of out on other people, you know. the healthy way.

and of course i was right outside my job which means that if i had yelled at her a photographer would have come out and snapped a picture of me in the heat of the moment getting a car windsheild smashed into my face. for i am not as strong as i perceive myself to be.

at any rate, instead of standing up for myself i drove off and pulled over a short ways away to loudly contemplate her actions to br when she drove past with an exhasperated expression on her face as if the whole incident were my fault. SORRY FOR EXISTING LADY.

i gave her the not so nice finger and continued on my way. of course, because i let things get to me and i had it going through my head and repeating to myself like a retard over and over "i can't believe she hit my bike, i can't believe she hit my bike" i didn't see the car in front of me stop so i slammed on breaks and my back tire fishtailed.

and then came the tears.

i don't deal well with situations like that. ever since i had my face plant (read: really bad accident that occured two years ago april 3, when i was riding home late (early) one day after a full day and a half plus night of binge drinking and fell asleep on my friends bike and now have to pay for new front teeth) i have been very nervous about riding. it probably took me a year to get back on another bike but necessity called for it so it had to be.

hence the safest rider in the world part. i am not a dangerous rider at all. you should see some of the "evil keneival" (spelling?) wanna be's that live here that all seem to have the same death wish. even when other people are suffering from their own injuries or deaths of a loved one, people don't slow down or pay attention.

in fact, on my way back to work i was coming along and this ass hole just jammed through the intersection, didn't stop or look to see if anything was coming, and then went up behind a taxi that was waiting to turn (his indicator was on, the ass hole couldn't say he didn't see it. i saw it and i was farther from them) and the ass hole decided to turn *at the same time* as the cab driver and proceeded to *cut the cab driver off* on a corner!

i hate the people that drive down here with a passion. i say... if you want to kill yourself fine, i'll wear bright yellow to your funeral. but i enjoy my life and am not ready to spend the rest of it all christopher reeves like (what too soon?).

i'm looking for someone...

...but i can't find him.
he's not lost, just in hiding. he probably knows that i'm looking too, which is why he's camouflaged himself with his surroundings.
i'll find him though... and let him know what i've been thinking. and what everyone else has been thinking. he deserves to know. unless he contracted some sort of rare cancer and has died already. probably not.
i'd like to think he has, only recently contracted bird flu and is about to die and whatever i have to say is the last thing that he hears on his death bed and he takes it to his grave.
but i don't want to see him. i just want to find him. and tell him how much i hate him.
because when you hate someone so much, you have to tell them, or else they'll never know what's wrong. how can they fix the problem if they don't know there is one?
you can't fix this though.
but i will try

pessimism

i'm distraught...

i'm weepy.

i don't think ryerson wants me to be a journalist... at least not through their school.

i hate this stress. gr. i can't even muster up a good gr.

i feel like i'm about to have an anxiety attack but i don't have enough energy.

if i couldn't work before i sure as hell can't now... at least i got one story done...

:( *sob* it's not fair!

i'm not working...

... i just thought the world should know.

damn those air conditioner office germs

i believe i am getting sick. from people at my job.

i feel it in my head, throat, face, arms... it does not feel good.
and it is a friday.
not monday, the dreaded beginning of the work week...
not wednesday, hump day and a nice way to shorten a long work week...
but friday. yes. the day before the weekend. glorious friday.
so, i bet right, that i'll be better by monday. of course. so i can make work. yay.

did you read the sarcasm in that? damn you germs.

disenchanted youth

ah in my disenchanted days... well... they aren't over yet... i was well known to myself for writing lame poetry on any lined surface... occasionally on plain surfances too... and then jamming that random piece of paper into a bag or pocket for safe keeping. mostly so other people couldn't read what i was writing.
recently i uncovered this little... *gem*... it's not as dark as most of my stuff... because you know, most of those issues inside come out only on paper because society doesn't think it's "acceptable" (please add the air quotes when doing that, and totally drippy sarcasm) to express ones self in more destructive means.

anyway. it's not titled, it's just there. and i don't even know if i got it from someone else or not... i'm a total plagarist bitch.

one day you asked me if it was worth the time but i was confused and afraid to make you mine.
i don't want to wait or let you go but i don't know
we could run away together forever and life could blossom from there
in a far away place where secrets live and camphor plays on midnight winds
exotic and fresh

where did this come from? i have no idea... it's probably about br but i can't be sure as it is not dated.
i'm particulary intruiged by the "and camphor plays on midnight winds/exotic and fresh" part... where the hell did i get that???? i didn't even know camphor was part of my working vocabulary!
but i guess kudos to me for almost using it in the right context... (because of it's strong... penetrating aromatic odor that is...)

i will not eat a peanut.

day four in this inane attempt at fasting.

i will not eat a peanut i will *not*

okay i totally took like the smallest bite of the peanut. i'm miserable and i'm hungry.

why the hell are you doing this to yourself? you may ask...

because i am STOOPID. yes. i used capital's for that. which is saying something.

my tongue feels like it is dancing on a carpet of lemon-y, pepper-y carpet-y stuff.

6 more days. i don't know if i can do it.

ghandi... you've come back!

believe it or not, i am actually not ghandi...

which has lead me to believe i must be crazy. because only a crazy person would attempt to fast for no real reason (see, ghandi had an excuse, he was trying to get people to be peaceful. i'm just trying to get my lower intestine to love me a little more)

i am on a ten day fast. this is actually day three, and they say that as long as you get through the first three you're okay, however i'm having visions of pizza and chocolate cake dancing in my head.

mmm... lemon juice, maple syrup and cayan pepper. have you heard of it? it's the latest craze since binging and purging.

but anyway. it' supposed to bring clarity. i'm already clear on the fact that i don't poop enough because apparently you're supposed to poo 3-5 times a day and i'm barely hitting once.

well... colon, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship. if i dont cheat and totally eat whole like the whole box of cookies sitting on my desk and taunting me with their chocolaty goodness. i must shut up now.

in other news? i'm cold and not liking it very much.