Best day in February

February's best day is upon us.

Happy Flag Day!

Auntie Meg

My brother's girlfriend sent me this message over MSN today while I was out:

"I asked Maddison today how she got so smart and she replied....'Auntie Meg'. LOL"

The fact that my niece likely had no idea what she was being asked does not matter to me. I still love it. She thinks she's smart because of me. :)

The silent leaper

When I woke up this morning, there was an interesting note written to me from my housemate. And this is how the story goes…

“This morning was the weirdest thing that has happened in this house for a long time. It’s a good thing Joe had left already or he would have been oddly turned on. :) It was pretty funny though.”

Just as I finished reading and had closed the notebook, my housemate came out of her bedroom. She made some comment about how hilarious this morning was. Needless to say, I was quite confused. What had happened this morning?

She must have noticed the confusion. “Do you not remember?”

”I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She burst out laughing. And then began to tell the story. Apparently it was about a quarter after 5, and Joe had just left, so she got up to pee. Around this same time, apparently I got out of bed and went to the fridge to get a glass of water. As she was heading back to her room, she turned the corner and saw that my bedroom door was open. Being very groggy, she hesitated and said “hello?” Silence. A few seconds later, as the story goes, I shouted out the most casual, unenthusiastic “aaah” ever. Nothing. A few more seconds pass, then apparently she sees me silently leap away to my room, hiding. Yes, leap. Now she’s the confused one. So she walks back into her room and says to me, “It’s safe now.” Then a minute or so later I walk to the fridge and get my water.

I must have been asleep the whole time. And now apparently the question is whether or not I was wearing any clothes early this morning in my quest for water. I say that yes, I was, because I was definitely fully dressed when I went to bed last night, and again when I woke up. But my housemate stands firm in saying, “I asked if you were naked cuz the flash of flesh I saw sure looked like it, my leaping-nude friend.” Either way, thank goodness for her grogginess.

Hairy Humanoid. 4 Letters. Yeti.

So I’ve been aware for years now that Queen’s main goal in its existence is not to educate students, but to suck as much money out of the students as possible. Tuition, student fees, residence fees, meal plans, and letters to alumni’s families asking for donations are just the beginning.

One of Queen’s favourite winter-ways to get a few extra dollars incredibly annoying: over-salting the walkways.

How does that work? It’s all about the laundry money, my friends. The majority of those unlucky first years in residence have no choice but to add endless dollars to their laundry cards to get rid of the salt-crust at the bottom of their pants. The school has even outdone itself this year and has decided to use blue salt. It has now become impossible to walk anywhere on, or near, campus without giving your each of your ankles a nice, crunchy, pale blue ring. No one likes pant crunch. And it immediately denies the possibility of wearing the pants a second time before washing them again. Which let’s face it, we all like to do.

Now of course I don’t live in rez and therefore don’t pay Queen’s for my laundry. However, I have a landlord who must have gotten a Queen’s “education” or something, because he collects money like no other. He actually has me double-paying to wash my clothes… I pay my own utilities and yet the washer and dryer in my house are coin operated. How screwy is that? But alas, the salt gets me every time and I have no choice but to pay. And not living in rez leaves me without a mandatory meal plan (thank goodness), so I have no money for food since all of my money goes to ridding my pants of blue salt rings.

I think that’s all.

Except... I need sympathy for the fact that the crossword in The Star destroyed me and a couple of friends today in class.
Oh, and Paper Street Saints is a pretty awesome band.

And tomorrow makes five.

So tomorrow will be my fifth visit to the travel agency for this one trip to Europe. We haven't heard from our agent, Anna, in a week and we're not impressed. When you say you'll call the tour company and get back to us by the end of the week, you do it. Or you call us to let us know that you couldn't but that you will as soon as possible. Any updates are nice.

So the plan for tomorrow is this: I will not be speaking. I'm a wimp. My housemate will do the talking, because she's more firm than I am, and quite frankly, she can be quite a bit bitchier than me. I've been instructed, however, to kick her if she gets too rude. We'll be asking for an update on what went down when Anna called the company, and if she hasn't called yet, she will. While we're there. No more of this, "I'll call them later this afternoon and get a hold of you afterwards" crap. If she doesn't cooperate, we're switching agents. There are at least two lovely and pleasant ones there that we know of and have dealt with.

And that's how it goes. This time, I will know by tomorrow afternoon if I'm booked for a trip, and I will have my flights there booked. But because I'm tired of Anna, I'll be booking my return flights online.

That's my exciting story for the day.

Three for three.... for three?

I'm on a roll. A napping roll, that is. I've had three naps in the past three days, and each one has been one of the most wonderful sleeps of my life.

And there have been good dreams involved, too. Nothing as exciting as a man combing his back/chest hair, or me becoming a detective with a friend's mom (who turned into Gil Grissom...) or anything, but fun nonetheless. Yesterday I went shopping in one and managed to buy three pairs of pants because I couldn't decide which ones I liked best! I knew I didn't have the money for them, but I bought them anyway. I like carefree me. And then when I woke up, I was so excited to wear my new pants but realized that I didn't have any. Sad.

First a C/S, now a CABG...

So I was fortunate enough to get to watch a CABG (coronary artery bypass graft) today during clinical. And I officially want to marry the anesthesiologist and have his babies. He was adorable, and from Australia, to top it all off. The surgeon was pretty awesome as well. Together a super fun and awesome team to be with today. And both incredibly nice... but chatty to the point where I almost didn't learn anything about open heart surgery, because I was too busy learning about the surgeon's favourite Harry Truman quotes.

Anyways, the whole point here is that I'm kind of upset because both times I've been in the OR now (the first time was in labour/delivery for a caesarian section), I've felt sick at the beginning of the procedure... and since that's likely the last time I'll make it to the OR as a student, I feel like my being light-headed is God's way of telling me that He doesn't want me working there. It makes me super sad, because I think that being a scrub nurse would be pretty awesome, and as the surgeon was saying, there are plenty of benefits to it.

On a side note, one of the nurses in the cardiovascular recovery area thought I was a doctor, so that's kind of fun.