Just a tad bit stressed

This is just a brief banter about shit that irritates me lately.

1. Summer school + lack of a job.

- Fuck Summer school. Fuck, it’s stressful and Canada student loan isn’t helping any. I failed anatomy and physiology in the fall because I’m genuinely stupid and in turn, need to complete and pass it this term, otherwise my ass is screwed financially and educationally. The course itself ran me 760$ to take it in six weeks and my unemployed ass had to pay for it. I obviously applied for a student loan, I got the assessment on what they feel I should receive to pay for my living expenses while I’m in school. They feel 1050$ covers my tuition, rent, food and other expenses like books. 1050$ covers my rent and 1/5^th of my tuition and 0% towards my books. Nobody will hire me here because I’m in school for 10 hours a day until June 22^nd and in June all the pesky high school students are going to secure all the decent jobs. Plus side is..uh...I’ve formed a study group in my class and we get shit done. Sort of.

- I’ve been getting the third degree to come to Nova Scotia and visit for the last five months and the people back home do not recognize the fact it costs me like, 500-700 bucks to get home and back. I have no job and they assume I have magical income I can pull out of my ass because I can budget better than them. Guess what? Budgeting is about spending money on shit you know you can afford! Guilt tripping someone isn’t a great idea if you want them to not be completely broke and stuck in Manitoba. I haven’t had a consistent job in almost three years due to moving around. Did you not get the fucking memo?

2. People who use you

FUCK THEM.

I understand sometimes you need something that someone else can provide just out of the goodness of their demeanour. Heck, I’m cool with helping people out. I’m not a total dick. If someone needs help with school work and I know what I’m doing in the subject I’m game for explaining it to your slow ass. I’ll hangout with you when you’re etching to get out and no ones answering their phones. However, you’ve gotta draw a line sometime. When it’s blatant you’re being used it’s beyond irritating. I have a friend that I only tend to hear from when they want something. When I first got here they seemed pretty cool and they’re in my program so I figured it’d work pretty well. However they also know I hate bars and belligerent shit shows 90% of the time, so I guess this cancels me out of the friend circle and puts me into the overly responsible circle.

At the start of the school year they asked if I’d be cool to watch their infants one night and I decided to be nice and do it. I don’t see why not. Whatever. Three months later they call again and say “hey wanna watch my kid so I can get a beer with someone for an hour or two tonight?” Sure, why not? I’ll be extra nice because everyone should be able to hangout with a friend with a beer over dinner sometime.

A month later they call again. I’m far too nice and don’t want to seem assholeish and still don’t have much to do in this city so I say OK.

Today, I’m sitting around and they call again and ask me what I’m doing tonight. I’m on the fence on getting out of the house because cabin fever’s setting in because I really haven’t done anything in close to 4 months. He immediately asks if I’m cool with watching his kid tonight. The kids asleep by the time I get there. At this point I’m sick of it so I say I can’t because I might be going out/have to study. I say sorry and they say it’s ok and just before they hungup, I guess they didn’t fully hangup as I heard them say “bitch” under their breath.

YOU’RE KIDDING RIGHT?

I’m done.

Cheers.

Slut Walk

No, there isn’t a hot girl party in your living room. It’s a trap if there is,

In Toronto, a trashy dressed woman was told she would be less at risk of sexual assault if she had been less “slutty” dressed after she had been sexually assaulted in January 24th, 2011.

Since then, girls in Toronto and elsewhere have thrown a hissyfit about the ambiguousish wording the police officer used at the time, because she is, for whatever reason all about dressing with most of her ladybits on display. She also has taken a few classes in women’s studies in University so clearly she felt the need to write papers about it too and tell everyone in Toronto who also likes to display their ladybits to run in the streets, and get mad over a word, which just so happens to be defined as...

–noun

1.

a dirty, slovenly woman.

2.

an immoral or dissolute woman; prostitute.

About 2000 – 4000 people showed up to parade in the streets with trashy, half wrecked clothes and quasi-creative signs to catch nearby news reporters’ attention to take cool pictures of and put them in their blogs and 4chan.

Oh gosh

Don't get me wrong, I totally support anything that helps sexual assault victims get through the issues that are associated after being assaulted. However, after reading into what the officer actually said, he did not say LYKE IF U DRESS LIKE A SLUT U TOTALLY DESERVE TO BE RAPED LAWLS. He merely said to take into consider the clothing you wear while walking around at night alone, but in a more blunt way. Hell, growing up my parents literally told me to not dress slutty and walk anywhere. Much less the streets of fucking Toronto.

In any given society you’re judged by the clothes you wear – in job interviews you’re expected to dress in dress clothes that are appropriate for the job interview. You’re brought up to dress in a conforming manner. I’m not talking about dressing up like it’s your wedding everyday, just to merely use common sense. Bright coloured hair = totally fine in most situations, wanna wear a few necklaces? Have at it! Wanna walk around the streets at night with half your clothes gone and be aware that there are many people who are mentally and socially incapacitated walking the streets around you who are simply out to get you, the lack of clothing just enticed them more.

It doesn’t mean assault victims deserve it, it simply means it’s unsafe to put yourself out there to that extent and to the rapist it opens the invitation even more. It does NOT initiate it.

If you have NO idea what the hell I’m talking about, SlutWalk

Cheers.

Gobs and gobs of food!

I’ve been without my camera since Christmas because when I went home to Nova Scotia in December, I brought my camera. I was planning on taking pictures when I was home and I did as most people in my family have the photography skills of a blind, deaf armless pirate.

I didn’t get much food cooking done because I had a ton of distractions back home and not enough time. When I got back to Manitoba I realized Christmas robbed me blind, so I couldn’t make anything significantly awesome. Then, I got a job a few months back and could afford to sort-of eat. I made some kick ass food but then realized I forgot my camera charger back home, and after FIVEMONTHSOFBANTERINGTOMYPARENTSTOMAILMEIT. I finally got it.

First dish: Easy peasy baked spicy chicken breast with linguini alfredo, with sliced grilled yellow potato and veggies! Noms!

Second dish: Fresh snapper cooked in lemon pepper sauce with mashed potatos and canned veggies with apple sausages and chopped up carrots. Lots of protein but who cares? Haha.

Lastly, Homemade applestrawberry’ fuckin coconut almond pie.

Chopped up some apples and strawberries, threw some oats and granola and brown sugar and regular sugar together. Garnish with two handfuls of coconut and almonds because coconut and almonds are AWESOME.

Mmm. Diabetes.

Dear Canada Post, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SERIOUS AGAIN, SERIOUSLY?!

University sucks.

It is basically the reason I haven’t posted in a while, plus the fact that I’ve been busy moving and getting the hell out of the ghetto.

Yay!

I just started changing my address on a bunch of stuff so mail doesn’t get sent to my old address and sending forms in for child abuse check to prove to my school that I don’t beat children on Tuesdays.

Anyway. I send the form in through Canada Post, put ONE stamp on it, figuring it would get to Winnipeg, which is exactly two hours away. I’ve mailed things to Ottawa from Nova Scotia with NO stamps perfectly fine before.

Then I move into my new apartment and the landlord says “Hey, you got mail sent back to you lols.”

WHAT YOU’RE KIDDING YOU BIG JERK

This is getting ridiculous.

Yeah, I finally got out of the ghetto because I secured a fucking beautiful new apartment and don’t have a terrifying intimidating nazi landlord. I messaged my previous landlord the other day after I moved all of my stuff into my new place about getting my damage deposit back, Absolutely shocking enough she’s withholding it to “clean your room.”

Fuckin’ Bologna.

I had a giant lab exam the same day I had to be out of my apartment and spent 30 hours straight studying for it prior to it. I’m not a dirtbag, I clean up after myself, especially if I’m living in someone elses house. I spilled a literal pin point dot of blue food colouring on her vomit-shade-of-white carpet. Completely unnoticeable unless your hands and knees. Food colouring is easily scrubbed out, and I even offered to scrub it out. She said nevermind because she was planning on ripping it up for her renovations. I assumed I was getting my damage deposit back as I cleaned the whole house out as the other tenants did NOTHING. Evidently, no. Fuck her and her ugly small house. I just wanted out of there and don’t feel like fighting over 200 bucks as she’s very intimidating and batheaded nuts.

Short story is, the new place is ten times better, roomier, cleaner and for fuck sakes the new landlord baked me freakin’ cookies two days after I moved in. YUS.

Cheers, fools.

Dear Music, what?

Sometimes, I feel old.

This in itself is kind of hilarious as I’m only 21. I volunteer with SIFE at my university and we develop programs that help the community and have various projects. For the most part, it’s usually a fun time. They sent me to California in the middle of October which was pretty fandangledly rad.

A few days ago, one of the people sent me a message asking for help on one of the projects I help run and I agreed because it was a reason for me not to go to one of my math classes which is pretty early and horrible.

The project was essentially teaching 6^th graders how to budget and we turned it into a fun game where they’re given money and have to pay bills and such. I was in charge of getting them to buy the crap they don’t need, such as candy.Mwhahaha.

Anyway, we finished the game and they all were let out for recess and I was thinking, what the hell do kids these days do for recess? We walked passed the gym and they had loud, bass-y techno blasting and were having some sort of a dance shin-dig. I then noticed half of the kids texting with iPhones.

My initial thought:

Yeah. I didn’t think. My brain was stuck in this image

When I was in sixth grade, I didn’t own a phone and we played TV initials.

TV initials is where five or six people stand against a wall and one person is about ten feet away and you give one initial of a TV show or a band and the first person to run up and guess it (you have to touch their hand first, though!). We didn’t have dance parties. Hell, we weren’t allowed to dance with other people

I also realize I’m almost double the age of some popstars that have more money than me, most which are in middle school and still have curfews. I know the majority of you just thought of that atrocity of a song by Rebecca Black.

Yeah, no. It’s not Friday, or Fryday.

This song is about fucking jeans.

Seriously.

What

The

Fuck.

The whole video is her singing about some celebrity having similar jeans, and she sounds like t-pain, but like twelve years old. She doesn’t know what to wear. Clothes would be a great idea, lady.

Majority of the video, she’s wearing a skirt. Does she have a community pair of jeans?

She should really wait til she’s eighteen before she lets people make use of her community jeans.

A, B, C

1, 2, 3

That girl wore her jeans like me

I bet she’s mad

‘cuz I look fat (?)

Ha-ha-ha

Jack my swag?!

Englightening.

HOW ELSE DO YOU WEAR YOUR JEANS? ON YOUR FACE?! THIS ISN’T EVEN ENGLISH. I WANT MY 4:01 MINUTES OF MY LIFE BACK. NAO.

Hokay. I’m done. I’m never reproducing, ever.

Hope I made you laugh!

Cheers.

Sometimes, being a social butterfly isn't a good idea.

This is just a short little posting, primarily due to the fact that I'm very busy with school lately, plus I'm way busy trying to find a new place to live because my current living situation reminds me of a whorehouse and a circus combined with a tiny ass kitchen.

Essentially I live with three other people, and they’re not too bad. I make one of ‘em laugh sometimes with my stupid tangents and I don’t really talk to the other one but whatever, not talking is better then stabbing them in the face for not shutting up.

Now, the third one, is basically a bro but about ninety pounds and 5’11. The broad doesn’t do dishes, she lives on messy shit that sticks to my fucking baking pan such as pizza and sugar-based-sauce-things. As anyone knows, when sugar melts into a pan, it’s a hell of a time to get that stickyness off. You’re suppose to soak it in warm water. Guess who has never done that and now there’s a permanent layer of stickyness on her 15$ pan? Yeah. Never buying another pan for this house ever again.

Essentially, the other night I was talking to my best friend back home at like, two AM because he figured who else would he call while waiting for the pink panther cartoon to come on television? Regardless I didn’t mind because he and myself are aware I have the sleep pattern of a narcoleptic crackhead. Soon enough I was ranting on the phone about my living situation because my friend had been complaining about his. I primarily went on about how she incessantly has her boyfriend over overnight, which doesn’t bug me, it’s the fact he’s in my house more then I am and he’s already caused the microwave to explode with popcorn. Very loudly. She may have heard it. Annnnnywho, I’m out of this place in April/May, so soon enough I won’t have to deal with their constant banging, shouting and videogame playing. By the way, all of this usually happens at about six AM.

TWO HOURS BEFORE I NEED TO WAKE UP.

In other news, not a whole hell of a lot is going on. I’m stuck in Summer school for Anatomy and Physiology apparently because I’m basically braindead, er that’s what my family said. Plus side is I can visit home for the last time in three years in June for about a month and some days.

Today, I was hanging out in the mingling area in the university with my laptop because I hate the campus desktop rooms. This guy in his probable 40’s asks me at random “Hey, do you have any extra time so you can make some money on the computer?”

Of course my broke ass was like “O rly. Maybe. What do you need done?” figuring he needed my computer to write an email or something.

Yeah, no.

He asks me to post an ad for him on the local ad database, which was fine to me because I figured he wanted to get rid of some old clothes or something.

Again. Yeah, no.

He asked me to post he was selling a “recently bought” queen size mattress and box spring for $350..............and there’s blood on both of them and will consider trades for a smaller bed

He then asked me what I’m taking in school and I said psychiatric nursing and he goes “Oh, I’d make a good psych nurse. I use to be a patient.”

WWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-------

Anyway, I posted the ad and didn’t bother to ask why there was blood on this mattress that was just recently purchased. Creepy.

Cheers.

University sucks...in March.

It's that time of year again.

No, it's not Christmas. It's March. From an academic standpoint, March is the one month out of the year where being a student sucks. It's academic rape. Most students can deal with April. Sure, you have a few exams, maybe a paper due in April. However, after April twenty-something you can sleep/drinkyoursorrowsaway/get your significant other back because you dumped them after you got that shitty mark on that one paper back but now you're totally "willing to make it work". ....for the summer.

No matter what program you are in, you cannot win. Your major could be fucking basket weaving and you'll still have to weave fifty-two baskets. Academic institutions know you're going to procrastinate whether you're eighteen or fifty-eight. In turn, they do the procrastinating for you and place due dates at the end of the year, which is March.

In the past week and a half, I have been sleeping on average of three to five hours a night and my weekend is going to consist of giving out free samples of spinach salad and fruit and writing out twenty-five pages of papers and 2 pages of math and studying for three exams I have in a week and a half. In two weeks I have two more four page journals due and a self analysis page thing to convince my interpersonal communication professor not to fail me.

In time of stress it's best to talk to friends. I have three. Two of which are busy with their own classes. I found so far, when I talk to the last person, a literal shitstorm of stress. He called the other night to talk and at that point I had been awake for two and a half days and living on pringles and energy drinks. Almost immediately, like as soon as I recognized the voice, I began to rant about interpersonal communication and how it is unfair you cannot take things you say back and how unfair it is that communication can be almost as detrimental to a relationship as not communicating at all.

The irony of this hurts me too.

Oh yeah, did I mention I said all of this to my ex-last relationship?

Yes, communicating on how much communicating deteriorates communication skills.

Anyway, In terms of things that are going on in my end of the woods – there isn’t really much of anything. Primarily because I’m up to my eyeballs in anatomy and physiology and there is no sight of end in these fuckin’ woods.

In the last three weeks my anatomy professor has talked about 1. Drinking piss 2. coprophagia 3. Sheep skin condoms. In depth.

Also, I may be stuck in Manitoba for the summer.

Cheers.