Snack Wrap

The other night Melissa and I find ourselves baked after a long day of work.  We had just finished meeting up with some of Melissa’s friends in Pine Crest .  The night ended with a group of guys driving to Kingston at 11pm- hoping to make last call.
After dropping off Milan we head to the closest McDonald’s.  In the drive thru, Melissa attempts to order.
“Can I have every snack wrap you have, fries and a milk shake”.  This is what I ordered; however with little success as the combination of our fogginess and laughter made it difficult for the operator to interpret.  Needless to say the Big Mac Snack Wrap was way better than anticipated.  I’m proud to say I have tried them all.

Goil like girl!

In an attempt to make a boring Sunday fun, Dillon suggests we learn how to speak in accents. I oblige because he is my favorite person and there really isn’t much else to do. For half an hour, Dillon reads out ludicrous statements about how to sound like a New Yorker. I go along, but find many of the words to make no sense. We begin having completely illogical conversation with our newly discovered accents, “I wanna hought daawg!” and “Lil’ goil, com’ere.”

Dillon suddenly drops out of our conversation, focuses on his laptop, and puts his hand up.

“Well apparently the person who wrote this was just fucking around. He’s not even from New York!”

Well obviously nawt!

Mardi Gras Party

About a month ago, 430 Nelson St hosted a Mardi Gras Extravaganza. Throughout the night, dozens and dozens of people poured in and out of our four-bedroom top floor pad. Like any true party, there was no way to get around other than putting your elbows up and shoving through the throngs of intoxicated twenty-somethings. The line for our only bathroom lingered around our laundry room and rumors of sexual assult in empty bedrooms drenched the air. Slowly, the last of the partygoers dwindled and finally we were left alone.

After making sure all of those sleeping over had a pillow or at least a blanket, I headed to my room around four in the morning. In fear that some drunk boy sleeping over would try to sneak into my room for an inebriated one-night-stand, I invited Dillon to sleep over.

Once he got in bed, we decided to have a cigarette. I grabbed the pack, a lighter, and a half-full beer covered in cigarette ash off my desk as our ashtray.

After tossing him a cigarette, I held out the beer can to him and said, “Here you go.”
Without thinking about it, Dillon grabbed hold of the filthy beer and took a big swig. I shouted ‘no’ as his eyes widen. Quickly, he jerked the can away from his mouth and wiped it off, “I thought you were offering me a drink!”

The corners of his mouth littered in black ash, I couldn’t even think of a thing to say.

“As if!”

Yesterday I was watching Clueless to kill the boredom of writing a gruelling paper for my Modern Political Thought I class and I swear it isn’t the same movie I saw when I was younger. There are bongs, joints, parties…everything that high school is good for, but all things I didn’t understand when I watched it as a kid.

The biggest difference is my new found love for Cher’s step brother. I used to think it was creepy that they were DTF even though they were legally related…but damn. What was I thinking? Josh is the epitome of a deep, troubled college boy. Are you reading Nietzsche? Is that an Amnesty International t-shirt? Mmm, Josh Horowitz please walk off that TV screen and into my life.

How to not get laid!

Vicky and I are beyond wasted last Thusday in celebration of Hip-Hop Night at Zaphods. We are dancing around like utter fools, when I decide it is imperitive that I pee. I disappear into the myriad of people, fumbling around drunkenly when I finally arrive to the staircase. As I begin my descent, I cross the path of two guys who are returning to the bar.

“What does your shirt say?” One of them asks me, pointing at my favorite Dim Mak t-shirt that I cut up into a tubetop.

I excitedly inform him that it says, “I’m Losing My Fucking Mind.”

The boy grins and retorts with, “Wanna lose your virgnity next?”

I stare at him in shock for a second. Seriously, what the fuck? Not only was it creepy, I was kind of insulted. So gentlemen, please use your head when addressing bitches at the bar, because even though we’re drunk…being a douche bag will never get you laid.

I hate…

I am sitting in class the other day when I notice a cute guy looking for a seat. We make eye contact and he starts heading in my direction. The lecture begins so I look up to the professor as the guy sits beside me. I go to move my purse and I find myself mortified: he is wearing rubber snow boots. Are we still six? Not today, champ.

Where’s the fucking pizza?

A few days ago I wake up and bump into Dillon on my way to the living room. He warns me quickly that Jessica is a bit grumpy for some reason, but not to mind it. Unphased, we continue to our nook where we find Jessica curled up in a ball on the couch with a big frown on her tired face. She looks at me with glazed eyes and asks, “Did you eat my pizza?” Dillon and I claim no responsibility and she grunts frustratedly. No wonder she’s pissed – it is an unwritten rule not to  fuck with a poor student’s food. JP continues to inform me that she already called Ryan and he swore he had no part in the disappearance of the cold slice of pizza, so she wants to know who ate it.  No one admits to scavenging the slice so we settle it by blaming the ghost.

Bluffin’ with my Muffin…

It is Christmas Day, and Jessica’s family has invited us to their beautiful house on the Rideau River for an early dinner. Wine is being poured like water and all of a sudden I’m drunk. Our little puppy Ellie is playing with Jessica’s massive golden lab, when all of a sudden the hundred-pound friendly giant slaps my arm with her tail and my wine goes flying across the living room. I am terrified: this is a nice ass house. Her parents look at me for a second as I drunkenly apologize and try to keep my composure when Jessica states, “Don’t even worry, Muffin is like my retarded sister.” Good save.

Move over Portia de Rossi

Supermodel Portia de Rossi’s comedienne lover and everyone’s favorite lesbian Ellen DeGeneres is the new face of CoverGirl’s Simply Ageless foundation. This is a victory for plain jane’s AND sexual deviants everywhere – so props to you, Ellen !

That’s service

Jessica and I decided that taking a campus trip to tremblant this winter is a definite must. The entire weekend looks like a blur of snow and frosh week, which isn’t very farfetched when you throw 1200 drunken university students on top of a mountain. Elevators are littered with beer cans, everyone is hammered, and Jessica is craving a cigarette. She procedes in knocking on all our hotel neighbours doors, although its probably three thirty in the morning when a security guard stops her. She drunkenly explains the problem and asks if he knows anyone with smokes. He walkytalkies all his buddies and we are presented with a bushel of nasty smokes.