you probably shouldn't read this if your name is Jesus.

On Sunday morning, I did something I never thought I'd do, and never plan to do again.

And no, it wasn't crack cocaine.

But for the record, I wouldn't do that either.

I WENT TO CHURCH!!!
That's right.  A Catholic (I think?) church.  Albeit, I went to exploit the local church for bonus points (as did many others in my music of the church class), but still.  I was there, with Jesus.  I made many observations throughout the performance...

1. There was no cover... at least upfront
When Jasmin and I rolled up outside the church, I asked her if I had to pay a cover charge to get in.  She laughed and said no, and explained that church isn't the same thing as a nightclub.  Interesting.  What she DIDN'T tell me was that about halfway through the performance, some bitch handed around this bucket thing where everyone threw in some form of money... and not just pennies and nickels, there were ten dollar bills floating around in there.  I awkwardly threw in the quarter I had in my pocket and received dirty looks from the old man further down on our bench.

2. There was a lot of standing up, and then sitting down.  
I don't know about everyone else in that building, but Sunday = recovery day.  So the fact that everyone was basically rising UP and then DOWN as if in a choreographed dance was not good for my upset stomach.
Most of the time, the stand-ups were accompanied by the singing of some terrible song that I didn't know.  I was nearly visited by the ghost of vodka from the night before, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit all over the house of Jesus.

3. Swearing is frowned upon
Everytime we had to stand up, I'd whisper (loudly) to Jasmin something along the lines of "Jesus fuck, again?  What is it with these assholes and standing up all the god damn time?."  She told me that I shouldn't say such things in church because it was offensive to God or something like that.  Luckily I don't believe in God and so I continued to swear under my breath every time I switched from a standing position to a sitting position.
*Note: I didn't swear just to be rude in church, it was kind of like a reflex, half of the time I don't even notice I'm doing it.  Hangovers and early mornings are my worst moments, and this was a mix of both... what do you expect?


4. The obvious dangers of the spread of mono or oral herpes.
The next part of the show caught me off guard: everyone in the building stood in a line, and one by one, proceeded to drink wine from the same cup.  FROM THE SAME FUCKING CUP!  Some random woman wiped the glass off between drinkers with the same cloth... I feel like that's not sanitary in any capacity.  In all seriousness, what if the first drinker had something like mono or oral herpes?  Or fuck, even a cold!  It would be spread to everyone in the church, would it not?
Also noteworthy about this portion of the show was the fact that prior to the wine, each person was given a few morsels of bread.  What if it was whole wheat? I  don't like whole wheat.  Why would I go to church for bread when there was a nearby McDonald's?

I guess I just don't really understand church, or how people can go to it every week.

the week I didn't eat mcdonalds

Those of you know me well (or simply have me on facebook) would know that I'm a self-proclaimed McDonald's addict.  Sober, drunk, or hungover, I frequently crave the succulent, salty, ketchupy goodness that McDonald's offers.  The downside is that I've come to realize that I like McDonald's a little too much.  Over March Break, there was one day where I ate McDonald's three times.  This is where I did a self-intervention and decided to take some time off.


Two days later my car was broken into and McDonald's was the rational thing to do.  I started over.


Monday Morning
I really wanted Mcdonald's to feel better after the whole car/being drunk thing that had happened.  Fortunately, being without a vehicle made McDonald's seem like an arduous, impossible task, so I was safe Monday.  I had to worry about other things, Micky Dee's didn't really seem like a priority.


Tuesday
Things were getting tough.  The letter 'M' threw me into fits of sweat and panic where I was reminded of the golden arches that I had grown to love and to trust.  I felt panic attacks coming on.  I became irritable.  I even dropped the F-bomb repeatedly at my father, even after he gave me $1,000 to pay for the shit that got f'ed up in relation to the car.  Tuesday felt like the end.


Wednesday
Stress distracted me from the allure of McDicks.  Numerous homework assignments and a three-hour class were effective in distracting me from my addiction.  I drank a beer but was otherwise healthy.  I felt like I could overcome my challenge.


Thursday
Shit hit the fan.  Car came back, I was desperate.  I drove by and sadly looked in the windows at all of the obese children and picky old people and remembered when I used to belong there.   The light turned green, however, and I drove back to res... I felt stronger than before.  
Then I got drunk.  Obviously I wasn't going to drive after drinking, but that didn't mean I couldn't get someone sober to drive for me.  In my drunken haze I probably asked some people to take me.  I don't really know what happened... but I ended up laying down with a bottled water to recover slightly.  Upon feeling better, I took some shots and hit the downtown.  Due to my lack of sleep on wednesday, my return to my room after the bar meant I passed out almost instantaneously, leaving no opportunity for McDonalds.


Friday
I roadtripped to Saint John with a few people.  I thought, "this is it, we're going to need to get food, and we're going to get McDonalds."  I opted for A&W.  I know it's still fast food, but hey, it's not McD's.  Also, I chose the grilled chicken sandwich.  A step in the right direction.  That night was similar to Thursday's story-  I was too tired when I got home from a crazy night out to get McD's and consequently went to bed.


Saturday
I really, really wanted breakfast from McD's to cure my hangover.  I went to the caf to distract myself.  I ate more than enough food and consequently threw it back up.  Then went back to bed.  When I re-awoke at like 3 or 4, the liquor store needed to be visited and the room needed to be cleaned.  By the time I was free it was time to drink.  I took a cab back from the student pub and passed out very early.  A concerned RA gave me some sliced bread, but that was the closest I came to McDonald's all week.


Sunday
finally, a week later I went to McDonald's again.  So. fucking. satisfying.

The Flying Fuck

Hi, I'm updating for the first time in two bajillion years.

Tonight, whilst drinking because it's St Patty's Day and finishing some homework (classy, I know), I repeatedly uttered the phrase, "I don't give a flying fuck!"  usually in reference to my lack of homework completion, or the fact that I'm drinking and it's Wednesday night/Thursday morning.
Then I was like... "what's a flying fuck?"

I envision it as a bat-like creature.  With red eyes.  And an axe.   And it can fly.
Well obviously it can fly, it's a motherfucking bat-like creature.  Anyway, this is my artist's rendition:

Anyway, that's what a flying fuck would be if it were an animal.  But who coined the phrase "I don't give a flying fuck" ?
Maybe it means that you're angry about something, but you don't care about it enough to force a flying fuck upon it.
"Those old people really pissed me off, but I really don't hate them enough to give them a flying fuck, so I guess I'll just leave them alone."  
"I have a paper due in like 20 minutes, and it's not done.  Clearly unleashing a flying fuck would be irrational and wouldn't help me finish my paper, so I shall exclaim that 'I don't give a flying fuck!'" 

It appears as though saying that you don't give a Flying Fuck means that you're just too apathetic about the situation to wish something SO horrible on whoever is responsible for it.

But what if I did give a Flying Fuck?
Instead of internally thinking "I don't give a flying fuck about your carpal tunnel syndrome you old bitch," I could exclaim "I GIVE YOU A FLYING FUCK!" and unleash one upon her.  It would... I don't know, I don't know what a Flying Fuck would do... you could say... I don't give a flying fuck!

Anyhow... that was my first update in awhile.  Sorry it sucked.  If you liked it subscribe or comment or something.  if you hated it, well, I GIVE A FLYING FUCK.  Go get raped by its ax or red eyes or bat-like powers, bitch.

I swore too much in this, sorry Grammie if you read this.

things that piss me off... but probably shouldn't

Being home has reminded me of the obscure things in life that tend to grind my gears a little bit.  Some are obvious, and universally shared (old people, traffic, etc), but others I can't help but feel that I'm the only one who is annoyed by them.  That being said, they are every bit as annoying as old people and traffic, and if anyone out there agrees with me on some of these, please comment and let me know. I'd feel less alone. :(

1. People who say things like "I don't own a TV - that stuff rots your brain" to make themselves look better than me.

You're not better than me just because you don't own a TV.

You sit in your house bored and wish you were watching Big Bang Theory.

You're also not better than me because you scrunch up your nose and say "ew, how do you EAT there?" when I announce that I've just returned from McDonald's.  Healthier, yes.  But better?  No.  You eat thinsations while I eat McNuggets.  Dallas = 1, self-righteous asshole - 0. 

You're not better than me because you say "Christmas has gotten too materialistic."  It's Christmas.  I want shit.  You want shit.  Get off your high horse and appreciate the shit we bought you.

2. When I'm baking something, and someone asks "oh! what are you making?"
When I was baking cookie dough truffles (more on that here) I was happily baking alone in the kitchen.  That's when my mother had to ruin my fun by enthusiastically exclaiming "MMMMMMMM! THAT SMELLS GOOD! WHATCHA MAKIN'??????????????????????????"  (Note, my mother is an English teacher and would not incorrectly use that many question marks.  I'm just including them because they represent how eager she was to find this out.)  You'd think this is just a simple question to which I would reply "cookie dough truffles!" but no.
Me: smthing.
Mom: What?
Me: SOMETHING.
Mom: Oh, okay!
*silence*
Mom: Is it cookies?
Me: No.
*silence*
Me: Do you want something?
*mom leaves, dad enters*
Dad: Oh! What are you making? Pancakes?

How COOKIE DOUGH looks like PANCAKES is beyond me.


3. When driving past this house that has a lot of christmas lights, and my dad says "jesus jesus christ, what an eyesore!"
Every year, there's this house on the way to my house that is absolutely decked out in Christmas lights.  People are amazed - including me - however, my father disapproves: (Note: The below does not do the lights justice)

We always try to emphasize to him that the lights are lovely, not an eyesore, but he persits every fucking time we drive by them.  This year was bearable in that this Christmas I'm finally with license and seldom have to drive with him.  That being said, he brings his frustrations home where he announces "I SAW THE UGLIEST FUCKING HOUSE TODAY..."

4. Fat kids with fat parents at fast food places.
This doesn't really piss me off so much as it makes me sad.  Children do not care about their weight (I speak from personal experience of being a grossly overweight kid), so when your kid is already on the verge of obesity, don't bring it to McDonald's.  If you have a healthy-looking kid who probably plays sports, then by all means.  But if it's already turning into a mini Rosie o'Donnell, give it a salad.

5. That commercial where a British woman tries to guilt you into sponsoring starving children in Africa.
Seriously... this plays like twice each commercial break.  I'm a starving university student (k, not really, but still) who can't afford to do this, so stop harrassing me about it.  She even concludes the commercial with: "Please call ... RIGHT NOW."  It's like... fuck off, bitch.  Yes I feel bad for less fortunate people but leave me alone.  The commercial has - if anything - made me less likely to sponsor anyone when I'm older.

The Story of Stinky and the Rabbit Woman

You know what I hate?  Whole wheat stuff - bread, wraps, bagels, etc.  It tastes like sawdust.
After 17 years of repeatedly saying how much I hate whole wheat bread, you'd think my grandparents would take the hint and prepare for my arrival with a loaf of delicious white bread.  But no.  Instead, my grandmother claimed that whole wheat bread is "healthy" and therefore the better option.  Clearly, in their minds, the presence of whole wheat bread justifies having a plethora of dessert choices, none of which are even remotely healthy.

Anyway, that was irrelevant. Here's the story of Stinky and the Rabbit Woman:

Every year, Christmas is ruined by the annual trip to visit the grandparents.  There's nothing wrong with them personally, it's just the fact that
a) there's nothing to do there
and b) there is always the risk of unwanted distant relatives.  This year, whilst enjoying a pleasant visit with my father's parents, we were visited by Stinky and the Rabbit Woman.

I knew that I was going to want to kill myself as soon as the duo arrived.  Their names are awful - I'm not going to disclose what they are, just in case - god forbid - they should ever read this.  They're the type of name that is the abbreviation of a name that should not be abbreviated.  Like trying to abbreviate Myrtle.
These people had those kind of names, only worse, and more stereotypically old.

The man reeked of cigarettes.  He took a seat next to me.  I moved.  He will be referred to as stinky.

The woman looked kind of like a rabbit, only she was a morbidly obese human woman.  She wore a blue relay for life tshirt.  You'd think I should be all "awww isn't that nice, blue means she was a volunteer there!" but NO.  The fact that she wears that shirt to go around visiting relatives leads me to believe that that shirt is one of the nicer things she owns - the rest of her wardrobe probably consists of oversized hoodies and shirts that say "5km road race" on them. She will be referred to as the Rabbit Woman.

(I stole the rabbit-like face from the internet.  My artistic skills haven't grown that dramatically)

My grandparents, parents, myself, and the couple sat around the living room engaging in conversation.  By this I mean - my mother and I helplessly looked at my father, trying to hint that it was time to leave, whilst exchanging desperate text messages to one another about how we were going to either kill ourselves or Stinky or the Rabbit Woman if we didn't leave soon.  The rest of them prattled on about such topics as who died recently, or - randomly - a five minute rant about bologna sandwiches.

I couldn't even watch what was on TV -  it was hockey, I hate hockey.

My dog wandered over and sniffed the Rabbit Woman skeptically.  The Rabbit Woman made a comment about how all dogs love her.
IT IS A DOG'S NATURAL INSTINCT TO HUNT RABBITS.  NO DOG HAS EVER LOVED YOU ON A DEEPER LEVEL THAN THE FACT THAT IT WOULD LIKE TO DEVOUR YOU.
I was tempted to say this, but didn't.  I figured, since I had said nothing at this point, they'd think I was crazy.

Cell service was sketchy, so I started typing messages and awkwardly placing my phone near where mom could read the messages.  "Why is this happening to us??"  read my first desperate plea.  Mom looked concerned, I could tell that her sanity was wavering as well.

Stinky's age was ambiguous - he could have been either 30 or 60.  I remember him saying something about having 25 years left until retirement (meaning he'd be like.. 30ish), but then later he and the Rabbit Woman talked about their grandchildren... so is he 50?  Who can tell?

When it was finally time to leave, the Rabbit Woman listed the other people that her and Stinky needed to visit that evening.  I felt like I had some moral obligation to warn the people she listed, but alas, most of them were other relatives I had never heard of.
On our way out the door, Stinky asked the dreaded question: "When did you get so tall?".  EVERY FUCKING YEAR I AM ASKED THIS QUESTION BY HUNDREDS OF ELDERLY RELATIVES I DIDN'T KNOW EXISTED.  I felt like saying "When did you see me last?" but I just awkwardly chuckled.  At least he probably had seen me when I was actually short... it's worse when it's someone like a grandparent who has seen me at least annually... like my grandfather:

Grandpa: Wow!  Have you ever grown!
Me: Actually, I was exactly the same height I was when I saw you last.
Grandpa: ha! That's funny, no you weren't!
Me: Yes. I was.
Grandpa: Well, how tall are you? You must be pushing six feet!
Me: DO YOU NOT REMEMBER HAVING THIS EXACT SAME EXCHANGE OF WORDS EVERY TIME I'VE SEEN YOU FOR THE LAST THREE YEARS WHEN I'VE ALWAYS BEEN PUSHING SIX FEET?
Grandpa: Wow! Have you ever grown!

things that make me angry. AND HAPPY! :D

I'm about to dive head-first into a post with no idea where I'm going with it.  Not even a topic, I'm just gonna (most likely) bitch about things that have recently pissed me off.  Actually, that could be decent.  Voila!  Here are things that piss me off:

1. This fucking weather.

I absolutely HATE winter, more than pretty much anything.  It's freezing - such that I have to drive slowly, or NOT AT ALL WHEN MY WINDSHIELD WON'T DEFROST AND THEN I'M LATE FOR MY PSYCH EXAM.  And then there was tonight, when I actually wore a blanket to go to Tim Hortons.  I looked like a mentally handicapped crack-addict douchebag.  Though, that was partially due to the fact that I dressed myself to portray the "I had a rough night, leave me alone" image.  You know what I mean, right?  The hoodie/shorts or pajamas/possibly a hat/no socks look.  Then entering the room with a loud "UGHHHHHHHHH" so people know that you're in rough shape and they don't judge you based on what you're wearing.  Anyway, what?  Oh right, weather... fuck Winter.

2. Exams.

I have a horrible work ethic.  Take right now for example - it is currently 2am, and I have an exam in seven hours.  Woop-de-fucking-doo, I'm writing a blog post, see ya in hell, Aristotle!  Philosophy.  Another thing that pisses me off, I never actually understand what is going on.  On the plus side, I've done 3/4 (one was cancelled... that still counts as a completion in my books), meaning I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!

3. When the internet doesn't work.

I haven't had internet access in my room for like two weeks, I hate venturing to the lounge to facebook creep.  It makes me feel guilty as the lounge is generally full of studious students, something I'm not (see number 2).

4. Pessimism

Like I'm being right now.  Maybe I'll focus on things that have made me happy recently!

HAPPY THINGS!!!!!!!!! :) 

1. Love and Other Drugs

Other than having to see Anne Hathaway's tits every five minutes, it was a fantastic movie!  I laughed and even almost cried a little.  Plus it involves a lot of partially-nude-Jake-Gyllenhaal, something we can all appreciate.  But seriously, Anne Hathaway - we get it, you have boobs.  You don't need to show us them.

2. Taco Bell

There is a taco bell here now.  Hello deliciousness & freshman 15.

3. Seeing the dogs!

I miss my dogs, I see them tomorrow. :)  yay!  Also friends and family, I miss them too.  But the dogs are SOOOO CUTEEEEE!!!!! Look:

4. Snow can be pretty.

I do hate winter and being cold... but snow is pretty, not gonna lie.  Preferably not too much, but I can still appreciate it around Christmas time.  That being said, there's nothing good about rain.  Nothing.

Three completely unrelated stories - on the gym, the hospital, and delusional me.

I have three different stories related to recent happenings in my life, but none were really long enough for a post of their own, so here they are!




1. My experience with the gym
A few weeks ago, I went to the gym for the first time... ever!
"Look at me!  I'm being responsible for my personal health!" I thought, even though approximately 40 other people were accomplishing this seemingly impossible task.  About ten minutes into my run on the elliptical:

Apparently, you're supposed to sign up for cardio equipment.  I awkwardly stammered "No..?" and she told me I needed to sign up.  So I left the gym.

Despite this traumatic encounter, I went back to the gym again the very next day... and again, for the next two weeks, pretty much everyday.

Look!  I'm being healthy!

Two things ended up happening:

1. During the weeks I attended the gym, I ate McDonald's nearly every day.  "Hey, I went to the gym today!  I can get McDonald's at 11 o'clock at night"

2. I ultimately tired myself out and stopped going altogether.  Hello freshman 15.  On the plus side, I still haven't boosted my car, so I have no convenient way of getting to McDonald's!

Even eating McDonald's all the time wasn't that bad, because at least I was doing something to even everything out.  Now I live a sedentary lifestyle, my exercise limited to crossing the courtyard to the caf, or walking up and down the stairs in res (and generally, I opt for the elevator).

2. The Hospital (oooooh, font change!)
A few days ago, as the result of a minor accident, I (as well as others involved in the accident) decided that paying a visit to the hospital wouldn't be a bad idea, just to make sure we weren't seriously injured. Ok, I didn't decide this.  I was going to irrationally hope that any problems would just go away on their own.  It was with an RA's recommendation that I ended up going.
Anyway, before you start to worry about whether or not I'm writing this from a hospital bed or a wheelchair - I'm fine.  I was just concerned with some back pain, which turned out to be nothing more than a little muscle bruising.  To be on the safe side, an x-ray technician x-rayed my entire spine.  Whether or not I was hallucinating at 4 in the morning, the x-ray tech looked something like this:

Only with her hair up in a perky ponytail and she had a Swedish accent.  But I was convinced that my xray tech was in reality a wealthy socialite.  

Before this happened, I spent a lot of time waiting around in a hospital room... despite the late hour (or early, depending on how you look at it) there were a few other patients in the nearby rooms.  I could hear two woman speaking very loudly from across the hall:
Woman 1: You know that lesbian friend I have?
Woman 2: Yeah? The one who's on acid and pregnant?
Woman 1: No no no, the other one, the one who used to be on acid, and is pregnant.
Woman 2: Oh, okay!  What about her?
Woman 1: Well now she's in Italy, and she's all "happy happy lesbian!"


I could frequently hear sounds from their room that were either laughs or cries, but it was impossible to distinguish.  

3. Delusions of Dallas Power.
I think this is the first time I've ever actually mentioned my name on this site... feel free to facebook stalk me if you don't already know who I am!
I might be a bit delusional at times.  (note: in my very first post http://powertequila.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-first-ever-blog-post-yay.html I clearly stated that I wasn't delusional.  I lied.)  


For example, when I went home a few weekends ago I told people I'd be making my triumphant return sometime in the evening.  In reality, my return involved passively watching a hockey game with some old friends then spending quality time with the 'rents.  Nothing triumphant actually happened: there was no parade, nor did I slay any public nuisances... like giants.


Another example is basically everything about my driving - only I fully accept the fact that I'm a terrible driver.  For whatever reason, in my mind it is perfectly fine to not allow the right of way to a pedestrian on the grounds that "I own the road!" and it is never my fault, even though in reality it is, generally, always my fault.  


And tonight, I fear that posting this blog on a Friday night will lead people to believe that I have no life, and nothing better to do than write about three random stories that happened in my life.  In reality, I don't think anyone really puts that much thought into it.  Or maybe I have no life... wait, no,  I have plans, I swear! :(