On second thought

A while ago I went to my doctor about this ridiculous nosebleed matter.

I suppose all my talk about nosebleeds isn't making me seem like a particularly classy woman

(it is probably making me seem like a sissy, gross kind of woman)

BUT YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND, FRIENDS.

Nosebleeds are very inconvenient.

I understand there is a vampire craze right now, but people actually DO NOT appreciate copious amounts of blood!

Its embarrassing if you're kissing someone and your nose begins to bleed.

It takes precision and cat-like reflexes to keep that kind of situation at minimal awkward levels!

TRUE STORY.

Anyway, I went to my doctor a few months ago.

She said, put antibiotic ointment (Otherwise known as POLYSPORIN YOU BRAND NAME WHORES.) in my nose with a Q-tip (Sorry, cotton swab.)

I did this the last time nosebleeds attacked and it worked.

So after my 6th nosebleed this week, I wake up and decide to try it out.

Polysporin, Q-Tip, Nose..

and the q-tip

made my nose bleed.

Naturally I tell KKRAZY about how crap this is, and I couldn't have said it better myself:

"God was all like, ohh ya think so? You think you have a techno-fix for DIS!? nahhhhhhhh."

Must have been my raptorjesus photo.

I really have no pride.

RAPTORJESUS

Ever since I started working I started thinking about:

1. How much I miss dicking around with everyone at school

2. How much I miss people at school

3. How much I don't like working in an office with only one other person

I AM A SOCIAL BUTTERFLY.

Needless to say I've been rather introspective lately and I am glummer than usual.

However I'm excited that the weather is getting slightly colder, as I can soon break out my Where's Waldo toque.

I considered dressing up as where's waldo for halloween, but I think I'm just gonna dress up like him for no reason and go hang out at the mall. Now accepting applications for people who wanna accompany a WALDO CROSS-DRESSER to the mall!

AND SERIOUSLY my nose has bled 6 times in the last 3 days, for those of you concerned with the daily nosebleed update.

Anyway, since none of the shit above was entertaining, here's a list of interesting subject lines to penis enlargement e-mails I've received:

- "Arousolution!"

- "Make your shlong shlonger."

- "Hey are you the guy who cannot make love."

- "I'm Batman, I demand reply."

Don't you just love how there is NO CONTINUITY TO ANY of these blog entries?

New Scientific Findings

For lack of anything better to write today ---

(aside from the fact I definitely am a longboarding prodigy,)

(Wait, what?)

(Okay I still need some practise.)

Oh and the fact I am:

Sick.

But employed!

--- I found a very scientifically accurate graph that is close to my heart:

HOW EMBARRASSING

Today I was doing my hair in the bathroom, and my mother was watching "Are you smarter than a 5th grader" on the TV down the hall.

I don't know what the question is, but she's yelling "BIKE. ITS BIKE YOU IDIOT" at the TV.
I mean, I do a lot of trivia-tv-yelling too, so I'm not complaining,
but I guess I was in a bitchy mood today
because after hearing her yell "BIKE. ITS BIKE,"
(JAKAL. ITS A JAKAL.)
a few too many times
(Seriously, how long can it take for the guy on the TV to just answer the question?)
I yell down the hall
"BUT MOTHER, WHAT IF IT IS NOT BIKE?"

(Philosophy, ugh.)

There is a silence.

Pause.

Pause.

My mother yells "SERIOUSLY? HOW IS IT 'GARAGE'?"

I guess it wasn't bike.

But she was so sure!

Did I jynx it?

Now I know she had the wrong answer.

This kind of situation ranks second on the Unfortunate Scale, beaten only by the Non-Mutual-Lingering-High-Five incident.

Tell 'em, Bill.

Take a punch.

Today I was talking to my friend Sheldon about getting a job at a liquor store.*

*I REALLY NEED A JOB :(

He told me that I could hit on all the freshly legal young men that come in to buy their 26s of captain morgan's.

"Oh that's too old for me, I like 'em young" - Quote Larissa.

He calls me out on this, as I think everyone knows I have a clear affinity for old celebrity men, ie: Edward Norton and Daniel Craig.

"No, I've changed my mind, I need a young teenage boy whom I can control." I says

"Oh, well in that case, I'll pass your number on to every teenage boy I meet." - Sheldon

"As long as they're ready to take a few backhands and refer to me as THE ENFORCER."

"..."

"I don't just date, I INTIMI-DATE."

I should probably trademark that phrase.

COOOOOUUUUUGARRRRR.

But srsly, if any 16 year old boys are reading this: No.

Nothing rhymes with "Orange"

You know what I like doing sometimes?

Typing in the beginning of a question into Google, and seeing what the auto suggest function... suggests.

I've gotten the regulars,

an astounding number of "How can I tell if I'm pregnant," "How to know if your pregnant" (WRONG YOUR, PERHAPS this has something to do with high pregnancy rates among bad gammer-ators.)

Anyway, I type in "What" and get the same stuff, and when I press the space bar to continue typing, this delightful gem pops up:

"what are these strawberries doing on my

nipples i need them for the fruit salad"

7,340 results.

I ask myself this question most weekends.

MOTHS

I feel like I don't really need to give an introduction about how much I hate moths, but to anyone who doesn't understand: I DO NOT LIKE MOTHS. AT ALL. They make me scream and run.

SO, UH?

Today I went with Becky to the mall. After a bit of shopping we get back to my car and put all our things in the backseat.

(I know, this story is absolutely electrifying right now.)

ANYWAY, we get to Becky's house, park, and I go to the passenger's side back door to get my stuff out of the car.

I open the door, and.. sitting on the seat is..

What is that?

ITS A BIG FUCKING MOTH.

And I

SCREAM.

And hop back a few times going "WHAT IS THAT?"

Becky looks, and says "WHAT IS THAT?"

I take a big step forward (ie: I LUNGED) and look again, but IT IS IT IS

"ITS A FUCKING MOTH."

and I jump back again onto the sidewalk.

I throw my hands on my head and go "OH MY GOD I HATE MOTHS."

I hop up and down and go "BECKY WE WERE DRIVING WITH THAT IN THE CAR!!!"

Becky laughs at me, she wonders why this is a big deal.

"It could have flown into my face while I was driving and we would have died!!"

(This is a big fear of mine, I don't trust myself not to flip out should this happen.)

As I'm calming myself down, a young man walks past us.

He has clearly been watching this entire exchange.

He looks at me, looks forward, and keeps walking.

DON'T JUDGE ME, YOUNG MAN.

"Oh. Hey." I say. SOOOOOO NONCHALANT.

He keeps walking.

Friends are tough to make.

Sometimes...

Sometimes picking your nose from below gets boring and routine,

why not..

PICK IT FROM THE SIDE?

JUST STICK YOUR FINGER RIGHT IN THERE.

(Hold the jokes, please, I know that's what she said.)

The thing that really gets me about this girl, is she only has one side of her nose stretched like this.

Where's the symmetry?

And I thought blowing my nose with a septum ring was tough.

ON A COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE:

When my brother and I used to fight as children (which inevitably involved pellet guns, safari hats, and/or fire,) my parents used to get angry at us for not getting along.

Now I yell "LOVE EACH OTHER" when they bicker, and they look at me like two frightened deer.

Yeah, REAL safari hats.

Once, at a friend's barbeque, I needed a knife to even out the ketchup on my burger, and I asked the host

"Hey, can I use the knife to spread it?"

"Yeah sure," he says.

"MAN, TOOOOO MANY NIGHTS HAVE STARTED OUT THAT WAY."

He just stared.

This is what I'm using to replace "That's what she said!" in my day to day life.

I prefer to use it in completely non-sexual situations, though.

But the genius in it is, you're thinking about knives and spreading in a sexual way now.

You don't know how, but, its GOTTA be sexual in some way, right?

My comments weren't alluding to anything sexual at all! You just assumed MY TONE was referring to a crazy Las Vegas bachelorette knife party.

(Angelina Jolie would totally dig it)

YOU'RE DISGUSTING.

(That means you Kenny, since you the only one who reads this shit.)

(Hi!)

"Man, if I had a nickel everytime I heard that one"

and

"Don't threaten me with a good time!"

also seem to suffice.

An epiphany

"Lets just be friends" is just a fancy way of saying "I honestly don't give a shit about keeping in contact with you, but if I see you at the bar I don't want you to yell at me."

Men? Ladies?

Life Lessons

Today I learned many interesting new things:

1. Sometimes, when you snap open the top of your shampoo bottle, the shampoo will launch into your eye like a tiny shampoo-droplet bullet. MORE IMPORTANTLY, when your shampoo boasts as having "guarana and ginseng" extracts in it (because apparently my hair needs to be washed in red bull every day) it is gonna hurt AT LEAST 10x AS MUCH as regular shampoo. I did some major yelling in the shower tonight.

2. Sometimes, when you take your dog for a walk in the ravine, and he wanders into the bushes for a while and won't come back, you will notice that wherever you go smells.. kind of like shit.

And even when you check your shoes, and your dogs paws, it still kinda smells like shit.

Sometimes, when your dog wanders off, it really means he's rolling in a dead animal. AND IF THIS HAPPENS, you shouldn't play with your dog afterwards, because you'll smell like dead animal too.

3. When your give your dog a bath, (Your very smart dog, as he jumps into the bath tub right after you say "Wow, I need to give Satchel a bath") he will get extremely excited once you dry him off. And even though you washed him with PANTENE PRO V SHAMPOO, he will still smell kind of like dead animal, and now that he's got the post-bath jitters, he wants to follow you around and jump on you / everything near you.

4. Taking "a short cut" down whyte ave on the way home, when its rush hour and there is a severe amount of construction on every road in whyte ave's vicinity, is a stupid idea.

Its also stupid to drive in the middle of two lanes.

(THIS WAS NOT ME THOUGH, it was another stupid person!)

Its also stupid to yell "LEFT LANE OR RIGHT LANE MY FRIEND, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" at the car ahead of you that's in the middle of the two lanes, when your window is open, and so is the passenger side window

of the car next to you.

I'm actually a really nice person, not always raging!

You are so not sleeping on my bed tonight, dog.

/LATER

Okay I guess you ARE sleeping on my bed you whiney bastard, but not until I spray you down with some serious scented linen spray. Ugh.

Larissawesome.

My plan to avoid unwanted babies:

I solemnly swear, that if I get pregnant out of wedlock, I am naming my kid Trans Am.

Upon a second thought, I don't know if this makes me really want to avoid having unwanted children, or want unwanted children (PARADOX?)

I guess I could name my kid Trans Am either way.

AND OKAY SERIOUSLY that beats "Apple" or "Audio Science" (Thanks Shannon Sossamon) or "Jermajesty."

Thanks Jermaine Jackson.

NO, HONESTLY.

Sometimes I like to visit my friends' Honesty Boxes on facebook, and write "I HAVE A BIG LESBIAN CRUSH ON YOU," just for shits and giggles.

FUTBOL

Friday night I went to the football game with Kylie, HB and Cayden.
This was fun because we're all SINGLE LADIES, ALL THE SINGLE LADIES, and we got to yell loudly at shit.

(This is actually what every woman wants, not diamonds)
(Though I do like diamonds, Thx.)

Despite being a pretty big football fan in my younger years, I've forgotten how a lot of the rules go, and also didn't wear my glasses so it was tough to see where the ball was. Needless to say I only WOO!'d at the wrong moment once.
POINT BEING?

There was a man in the lower rows that was the epitome of douche @ 40 years of age.
He was severely tanned, frosted blonde hair, bedazzled true religion jeans, and a lime green dress shirt, top 3 buttons left undone.
I'm sorry sir, we're at a football game.

He keeps walking past our seats to get beer throughout the game, and I can't help but comment that he's what a certain ex-boyfriend is going to look like in 10 years (ALL MY SINGLE LADIES, ALL MY SINGLE LADIES)
We giggle.

At the end of the game, he walks past our seats once more, and in the chaos of people leaving the stadium, I figure its loud enough for me to look at him and go "BLECH."

Well apparently not, because he heard and glared at me.

A woman sitting a few seats down turned to me and said "Oh wow.. did that not make you feel really dirty?"

I guess she thought he was checking me out, but I can probably guarantee the thoughts running through his head were not "HOW YOU DOIN'?" but rather "WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY SHIRT? LADIES LOVE THIS SHIRT."

Ladies want this.

+ I've mentioned this one a million times, but while we're on the topic..

Why is it, when a man is hitting on you at the bar, and you tell him you're a lesbian, it works the opposite way of how you want?

Bi-sexual is what you want, guys.

Actually, you want a slutty bi-sexual.

Actually, you just want a slut.

Seriously though.

"Sorry, I'm a lesbian."

"LESBIAN? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TONIGHT? ;) "

"A WOMAN."

Men seem to live in a strange fantasy world where all twins wanna make out with each other, all lesbian's secretly want to satisfy their craving for a penis, and all slumber parties involve clothing-optional and pillow fights.

AND WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH AIRPLANE FOOD?

(Actually its pretty decent as far as I'm concerned, highlight of my life when you've been eating bread and peanut butter in the southern hemisphere for 5 days.)

DEAR DIARY:

Two stories:
2 days ago I called my house to get a ride home from the bus station because I missed my bus by 2 seconds and apparently have better things to do than hang around a bus station for half an hour.
(I don't, actually :( )
ANYWAY
I'm waiting in the pick up zone, and lean over to adjust my boots, when I notice a wasp flying around my ankles.
No big deal, I wave it away.
But IT COMES BACK.
And I don't normally have a problem with wasps (NOT LIKE MOTHS) but I'm wearing a billowy skirt, and its getting up in the folds and such, and I am not amused with this.

I do a bit of a hop backwards, but it keeps coming at me, so I'm deeking and dodging around the sidewalk, going "Eeep!" and "Go away!" and looking around to see if anyone noticed.

The whole ordeal only lasted a good 20 seconds, as my dad pulled up in the car and I got inside.

"Why are you dancing on the street corner?" - Father
"Ugh It was a wasp!"
"You looked really stupid."

Its my new way of attracting men.




+ TODAY IN DRAWING CLASS
We were discussing conceptual still life possibilities, and one of the guys, Chris, his still life involves a lot of wood working ideas. My professor, trying to help flesh out the idea, suggests including a picture of someone important in the drawing.

"Do you have any heros, like who's your woodworking hero?" he asks.

And from the back of the class, someone yells,
"Jesus?"




IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN OBVIOUS CHOICE, RIGHT?



++ The infamous lasers/jean jacket photo!

No segues.

Nothing exciting happened to me today.

I got a good 3 hours of sleep because my body apparently doesn't understand how awesome being well rested feels like.

I suppose this is really all my fault though, as by the time I recovered from Australia jet lag, I realized I only had a few weeks of school left and thought WE HAVE TO PARTY ALL THE TIME and got myself back off schedule.

Or maybe I sincerely have a sleeping problem.

I'm thinking its a combination, MY BRAIN JUST WON'T EVER SHUT OFF.

Needless to say I just did a lot of sleeping/half-eye-in' it today. I'm sure all the people in my 8 AM printmaking class thing I'm some kind of major stoner, but I'M JUST GROGGY, GOD DAMNIT.

Here is something amusing to read:

My transmission is going on my car, a '97 Ford Escort, SEAFOAM GREEN!

Whenever I pass by another green escort in a parking lot I yell "SEAFOAM GREEN!" and pump my fist at them. I've been assuming this is going to make me friends but it hasn't yet.

ANYWAY

It always accelerates really sporadically and, as I talk to inanimate objects on the regular, I have to yell "EASY, ESCORT!" Well I don't have to yell, but I feel the car and me have a bond. When my windows are rolled down people probably hear me and assume I'm yelling at the unruly hooker tied up in my back seat.

+ You know what really bothered me?

When I worked at La Senza, and women would try to return underwear. Now, they would never shop at a store that they knew excepted underwear exchanges, because THAT'S DISGUSTING but they definitely want to shop at a store that accepts their underwear, and only theirs.

"I'm sorry, we don't accept exchanges on underwear, its store policy."

"But I never wore them!"

"And I didn't snort cocaine before work, we all lie!"

I'LL TURN THIS CAR AROUND IF YOU DON'T SETTLE DOWN, ESCORT.

The trials and tribulations of facebook

Today I was having a conversation with my Dad about facebook.
He's very confused about the whole thing. I managed to set up and account for him about a month ago and I haven't heard the end of it now. I've created a monster.


He's confused about the "Find Friends" and "Friend Suggestions" options.
"LARISSA, WHY DO THESE PEOPLE KNOW WHO I AM?"
"They don't, Dad, but you can add them if you want."
"Well I want to find friends, can I click it?"
"If you want to add people to your friendslist."
"Well who's my friend right now?"
"No one, nobody likes you."
"People like me!"




Rules of the Internet: Your friends are only real if you're friends on facebook.




I show him how to look for friends by letting facebook connect to his e-mail address book:


"Look at all these people who have facebook that I know!"
"Well, add them as friends if you want."
"I don't want to, I don't want people to know I'm on here."
"Then there's no point to be on facebook, Dad."
"Well what do I do now?"
"Nothing. Close the window."


And finally:


"Dad seriously, don't you think you're a little old for facebook?"
"No, look at all the people I know who have it."
"And are you not looking down on them for it?"
"Well yeah. But at least I'm not twittering!"
"You don't even know what twitter is, Dad."
"No, I don't."




But at least he knows the word.
Ohhhh daddy.

Sunday nights

Alright, it really has to be mentioned, that while out for a (COLD) stroll on whyte avenue with KERRTALK, we stopped in at Chicago Deep Dish for cheap pizza.

(This was after I gave 2 dollars to a "residentially challenged" man who specifically mentioned wanting a slice.)

Residentially challenged, his words, not mine, quite the suave hobo.

Now I understand its a long weekend, and I also understand that my last few blogs here have included the label of "drinking" (which will be used here again, BUT I WAS SOBER TONIGHT, OKAY?) but there is a point in everyone's quest for inebriation, where they should make the decision to just go home, as opposed to picking up a woman approx. 20 years their senior, and taking her to a dingy pizza place for a romantic bite to eat at 2 AM.

SCENE:

Man, bald by choice it would seem, I'll put him at 24.

Woman, unfortunate looking by most standards, 37?

They're waiting in line for some pizza goodness, and I notice the guy has his hand down the back of the woman's pants.

We're talking just first knuckle depth here, I can let it slide.

HOWEVER

This soon progresses into her grinding her ass into his crotch, and Mr Bald 24 starts slapping her crotch, like if he was ridin' dah bronco, but.. just not properly.

So while she's giggling and grinding, and he's Slappin' dah tang (appropriately coined by Kenny) he turns, looks at me, and nods.

Its all about the multi-tasking. Why settle for one woman in a pizza place when you could possibly CHARM TWO OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME?

He ordered 2 slices of pepperoni pizza.

The LAST 2 slices,

and dropped them

on

the

ground.

Consequently, we had hawaiian, one slice each.

Metropolis time

Last night I finally bit the bullet and decided to go to Metropolis. I haven't gone out to a rave in almost a year, not since Scream/Halloween 2008. I planned to go to Metropolis, never got around to getting a ticket, and then at the last minute decided that dancing in front of my bathroom mirror just wasn't going to cut it and got a ticket off my brother's friend.

BUT TO MY SURPRISE, I still love late nights dancing :)

Some random guy offered me his drink while I was waiting to get my own. Apparently he bought 4 too many vodka-sprites (a simple mistake, I'm sure) and I was in the right place at the right time.

"Thanks?" - Larissa.

I mean.. what else is there to do.

He cheers'D me, but morals dictate I don't accept drinks from random people unless I see them mixed at the bar.

I didn't want to drink after we clinked cups, & after a brief conversation about "Well don't waste my drink!" he offered me the consolation offer of two of his drink tickets in exchange for his vodka-sprite back.

Maybe he thought this was a good deal for him or something; I guess I drive a hard bargain.

He finished our meeting with a "I am so fucked up right now!" and wandered off.

Ah, the world explained in one simple sentence.

Drink situation/Step 3: PROFIT.

I also encountered a man who pulled out a picture of jesus and held it up to me.

"Have you met jesus christ?"

"Uh..."

"Have you been saved by jesus?"

Perparing myself for some awkward conversation...

"Not at all, my friend."

"GOOD, HE'S A FAGGOT."

And he wandered off as well.

Well that's a new one. No philosophical arguments for me.

As an aside: Seriously my nose has bled at least five times in the last three days. I'm officially not enjoying this. I used to be petrified of nosebleeds but now when it happens, aside from going "OH GOD OH GOD" I just yell "ARE YOU SERIOUS" and wait for it to stop.

Its pretty unenjoyable when I'm washing my face, look in the mirror, and realize I'm channelling my inner warrior princess as the blood mixes with the water I'm rinsing with, and its now all over my face.

Sorry, visuals.

HEY LOOK A PHOTO.

Dear Diary:

I think I've definitely amped up my levels of drinking lately. This is upsetting/(exciting?) because I almost never drink due to always being the designated driver. I usually don't mind since hanging around drunk people makes me feel drunk anyway, and most people know that after a bit too much alcohol consumption I will indefinitely:

1. Start a fight with someone

2. Yell about how we need to drink more, despite the fact we REALLY DO NOT NEED TO.

3. Probably lay down on the floor, should the climate permit it (ie: At a house party, not a bar.)

I'd like everyone who has ever received punches and/or drunken threats from me to please point themselves out, now.

POINT OF THIS ENTRY:

Perhaps I should stop drinking for the next month, as it seems every time I get an ounce of alcohol in myself, I punch myself in the nose, which is EXTREMELY PAINFUL!!!! considering my recent septum piercing. If I'm not punching myself due to poor coordination, I'm thinking "WHAT'S ON MY NOSE?" and grabbing it due to poor judgement, or, on one occasion, ramming my face into the back of a head rest in Barrett's car.

:|

I'm starting to get worried that its not going to heal properly and I'll have to take it out.

Hold back your cheers, men of the world, it hasn't happened yet. : )

TODAY MARKS THE DAY

... that I officially start writing daily blogs (OR SEMI-DAILY?) about my life's shenannigans, on a blog that isn't hosted by nexopia.

DEAR DIARY:

Today was the first day back to school. I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I think I should have. After an entire summer debating whether or not to go back to the U of A, or drop out, upgrade, and go to NAIT for Respiratory Therapy, I ended up just being a PROCRASTINATING BUM and going back into graphic design.

In all honesty, I had planned to just drop out. I purposely missed my confirmation payment and planned to get kicked out, but turns out:

Jet lag + not having a job (ie: no need to know what day it is for 4 months) means I don't understand confirmation payment due dates, and had one extra day to pay it.

IT MUST HAVE BEEN A SIGN.

Coming from a girl who is completely devoid of faith in a higher power (I just took out Losing Faith in Faith by Dan Barker from the U library, GO PERKS) I think I shouldn't have assumed this was some cosmic push towards graphic design.

ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING:

That the night before I go back to school, my fortune cookie says "You will succeed in the field of medicine"(IN BED). Is this a sign as well? Why can't I get any continuity here? I think I've lost faith in faith.

ANYWAY, WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO READ:

So Shannon and I were directed to the Student Design Association table in Quad today on campus. They had a big backdrop of PINK AND BLUE 80s LASERS! to take photos in front of, with props!

Including:

Horse mask!

Gorilla mask!

Old jean jacket!

3D glasses, Boxing gloves, arm warmers, etc.

I chose 3D glasses and a jean jacket, shannon chose glasses and boxing gloves.

As we're getting ready for a photo, a delightful young gentleman walks by and criticizes my choice of pose/attire/gangster pose. Being all 80s'D up (and considerably full of refined sugar) I had no choice but to grab the collar of my jacket, puff up my chest, and yell "WHAT? YOU WANNA GO?"

He didn't wanna go.

Larissa: 0, Heckler: 1.

WAIT, THAT'S WRONG.

Larissa: Always wins.

Regards,

Tired, Indecisive Panda