My short story prof tends to stand and lecture at the sides of the class, rather than front and centre, and likes to idly squeeze his nipple through his three sweaters, between his index and middle finger. Why do I KNOW that?! He tends to do it a lot. I'm forced to watch him talk, otherwise I lose him with the accent. The least he could do is try to hide his tweaking ways a little by crossing his arms or something. Actually, I don't even think he realizes he's doing it, but still. Ewww. Old man nipple scratching. Ewww.
...

Beware of Squiggly Excitement Levels

On a lighter note, Squiggly came over for about 20 minutes yesterday to say "hi" and to watch the last two minutes of the 4th quarter of the Raptors/Houston game. (I'm sure you know of this kick-ass game.) 83-80 for the Rockets, less than 24 seconds left on the clock, Raptors' possession. Now I don't tend to watch basketball on TV, but for this kick-ass game, I sat down on the armrest next to Squiggly, leaning forward in anticipation. Raptors sub-on all their field-goal shooters...Vince brings it up the floor...passes to the rookie...Bosh takes the 3-point shot...HE MAKES IT TO TIE THE GAME AND PUSH THE ROCKETS FOR OVERTIME!!!

In his excited frenzy, Squiggly grabbed my legs and waved them around like one of those giant foam fingers as I fell off my perch onto the couch behind him. When he'd finished waving my legs, he still had energy to expend so he cried "Hold on!" which I did, and found myself hoisted onto Squiggly's back as he did a lap around my living room/dining room before finally dropping me back onto the couch in a stunned heap. I (voicelessly) laughed and pointed at him for a good 30 seconds after that, rasping that he was the biggest loser ever. I probably would have kept teasing and pointing at him, but the overtime had just started.

We settled back onto the couch for the beginning of the first overtime. Again, down to the last few seconds on the shot clock and Raptors were down by a basket. Again, Raptors' possession...all top-shooters on the floor...a pass to the Raptor Rookie...he throws up the shot...the seconds go down...and IT'S IN! HE MAKES THE TYING SHOT AGAIN!!! This time in his excitement, Squiggly threw his arms out in a backwards pump and cried "Whoo-hoo!!!" à la Homer Simpson, only about ten times more enthusiastically (for those who know, Squiggly's reaction could be more accurately described as a "backwards birth"). Thank goodness the Raptors clinched it and crushed Houston in the second overtime--I was pretty sure Squiggly was going to explode upon his next excited outburst. That and I feared for my personal safety. :p

Squiggly once text messaged me from his workplace in Stratford: "I have so much energy right now, I wish I could just bottle it up!" I secretly think he found a way to do so and bottled just a leetle too much for this game... :) 1334
...

Excuse Me, Could You Pass Me My Lung?

My first day of class in almost a week, and I was all ready to be the best student I'd been all semester. I had my pen, my paper, my notes, and I was paying attention, scribbling furiously. I was even able to focus completely without having to worry about having to answer any questions because my profs knew I had no voice with which to do so. But then, it happened. Halfway through my second class, something started to tickle in the back of my throat. At first I tried to discreetly "ahem" my way out of it, but what started off as a quiet little clearing of the throat turned into a nearly full blown hacking attack. I nearly gagged, trying to hold in my coughing. It was bad enough for the prof to stop lecturing to ask if I was okay. I threw him the thumbs-up from the back and managed to stifle my hacking for about 20 seconds as I tried to sit still. The 20 seconds up, I started to hack again. Grabbing my wallet I dove for the door, all the second-years trying to give me cut-eye for cutting into their note-taking "zone."

A bottle of water and seven straight minutes of coughing later, I knew it wasn't going to let up. Most people to pass me in the hall smiled sympathetically as I tried to keep it down, but there was one chick that threw me a glare for my unsexy hacking background sound accompanying her attempted strut down the hall. I wanted to chase her, cough a big loogie on her (if only I knew how) and then tell her that I was suffering from SARS. Lucky for her I had to double-over just then to keep my lung and diaphram from flying out my throat. I decided that my attempt at being a good student had failed at that point and would have to wait for another day. So when my class broke for break, I dove back in and gathered my stuff, feeling the relieved eyes of the prof and those second-years as I made my exit with an hour and a half of class still left to go. I hate being sick.

Calling Boo earlier today to see if she and her Boo wanted to go out and study, I had the biggest urge to say (rasp) "Seven days..." into the phone when she picked up. That would've been kinda mean though, so I didn't, although had I had this voice at Hallowe'en, I totally would've. This voice, a dirty white ruffled dress, and my hair...terrifying. *evil grin*

Some Random (and some disgusting) Quotes From Our Study Session This Evening:
"Severe diarrhea, yellow anal leakage--you know anal leakage is uncontrollable?"
"What's so attractive about the human body?"
"I'd hate for my dying word to be 'fuck'."
"Seven days..."
"Only talking or whispering is allowed; no inbetweening!"
"Do you know the difference between 'the history of film' and 'films of history'?"
"What is your chota/gonads?"

omg. We're disgusting. Random and disgusting. I shall refrain from identifying which of us three said what. At least it was study-related. :p By the way Boo, do you have any post-its?

Can You Hear Me Now?

So I started playing volleyball again on Thursday, despite the fact that I was still kinda sick with a scratchy throat. And then I kept on playing volleyball on Friday night, and all day on Saturday (despite the results, an awesomely fun tourney--with our own cheering section too!). What's the point? Apparently when you have a sore throat, you can continue screaming and cheering and rooting your team and team members on so for only so long before you lose your voice entirely. Yup. Even if I TRY to talk, I can only manage a decibel level of about a mouse's whisper. It's awful.

Actually, I hadn't lost my voice completely yet by the time the tournament was over yesterday, but the fact that I had to go straight to work afterwards and deal with about a billion-and-one customers was what put my voice over the edge. A lot of the people were nice about the fact that my voice was cracking and squeaking mid-sentence. A lot of the older people felt the need to tell me that I was going to have to deal with it for a long time and that I shouldn't expect to talk again for at least half a week. They were so encouraging.

There was one guy that I think was endeared by my loss of vocalness on the phone. He called in to see if we'd located his FOB (if anyone knows why they're called that, please enlighten me) remote/keychain for his condo that he'd lost last week. In my now whispery rasp (which I have to admit, was almost kinda sexy) we had a quick, fun, and friendly conversation about what he lost and what it looked like, and I told him that I'd call him later after I'd had a look for it. So I didn't find it, but I did call him back and had to leave a message ("Hi, this is the girl with the funny voice...") telling him so, and I figured too bad for him. Turns out later that he called me back and had asked for me, but since I was busy he told my co-worker to thank me for the message and wished that I would get better soon. I don't know what he said, but it was enough for my Chu to ask me:
    Chu - "Did you know that guy that called for you?"
    Me - "No, why?"
    Chu - "I dunno why, but sounds like dude likes you."
Weird...I'm just so damn charming with a raspy, transvestite kinda voice. :p

Anyway, so throughout the day, I've been trying to whisper as loudly as possible. I've been trying to get other people to answer my phone for me as much as possible and serve as my voice for me--without other people, I can barely get the caller's attention and even let them know I actually AM there. It's quite funny sometimes; until I end up having to repeat myself 5 times to get one sentence through. Ah well, only what, 3-4 more days of this? We'll see how this works...maybe my profs will be a little more lenient on the fact that I missed 3 days of school last week due to my hideous looking illness. Man, I hope so...

Sometimes I Amuse Myself

Brodder stayed home on Monday because he was too groggy after sleeping 15 hours to go to school afterall. That and since he'd slept since 8 o'clock the night before, he hadn't done any of his homework. That night, he left a note on the counter, asking for someone to write him a note. Passing by the counter on the way to making myself some tea in an attempt to dislodge the pinecones in my throat, I noticed his note, and decided to save my parents the trouble the next morning by writing him a note myself:

To Whom It May Concern,

Please excuse Brodder's absence from classes yesterday (November 10, 2003) as he was too lazy to get his good-for-nothing, skinny-ass out of bed for school. Have a great day Remembering!

Thank you,

his dutiful and brutally honest, disgustingly fat sister,
melody - xoxoxoxo

I spent a good 5 minutes laughing to myself about that note. I was willing to bet that the poor secretary that received it would be most confused about the "Remembering" part (how many of YOU get that part, huh?). I'm sure you can imagine my dismay when I woke up the next morning to find my note still on the counter. However, when I asked Brodder about it later that day, he laughed for a good 5 minutes as well before telling me that he had seriously considered taking that version of his note in anyway. He'd planned to hand it to the secretary, and just as the look on her face turned from a pleasant "Good morning Mr. SAC President" look to a "What the hell is this shit" look, he'd jump in with a "Whoops, I think I handed you the wrong note there, here's the one for you!" and switch the papers, leaving her wide-eyed and bewildered. *sigh* I'm glad Brodder gets it. If he didn't, I think it'd only be me. I swear, sometimes I amuse myself.

Pfft. A Whole Lot of Pfft...

I hate being sick. I feel so useless when I'm sick. You'd think that when I'm sick and take a few days off from school, I'd have more time to do things. Pfft. Whatever. I've been home the last few days and I've accomplished next to nothing. I haven't even blogged lately. Pfft. Not that you've noticed or anything. Even my most avid reader hasn't complained about my lack of posts yet. Pfft. I guess she wasn't a very avid reader then. Pfft.

I want to go out tomorrow, but I'm sick. Señorita wants to go out, the Tri-Campus team wants to go out, V-jai wants to go out, and all I want to do is stay home and cuddle with Hun-Gee. Is that so wrong? I'm sorry people, I'm usually a party amnimal (pfft, no, that's not a spelling mistake) but this week I'm just beat. Just plain beat. That and I feel like I'm swallowing a pinecone everytime I have to swallow. Yuck. Did I mention that I hate being sick?

Hun-Gee wants to come home and pump me full of drugs to make my sickness go away. Pfft. I hate drugs. But I also hate being sick. What to do? This sick isn't so bad in that I'm not confined to my bed all day--I can actually get up and wander around without worrying about spontaneously keeling over. The worst thing about this sick is that it's made me break out in the worst eczema I've had in a LONG time. And it sucks that there's just nothing I can do about it. No amount of cream or ointment seems to be working, so I've given up and just tried to accept the fact that until I've gotten over this, my face will be hideous to all who happen to lay eyes upon me. Pfft. Stupid feverish rashes. Pfft. Oh yes, it's that bad.

Hun-Gee tried to reassure me over the phone that it couldn't possibly be that bad. Pfft. Wait till you come home FIRST before you say that, Hun-Gee, trust me. Here's proof: a girl from the tri-campus team was sitting next to me and happened to lay eyes on the hideousness that is my blotchy face. She's the nicest girl ever, and she only has the nicest things to say, but still, the fact that the following conversation ensued, has got to say something about how bad I look right now...
    Nicest Girl Ever - (noticing the jug of orange juice between my legs) Oh, you're sick too, aren't you?
    Me - (nods my hideously blotchy head)
    N.G.E. - Does that mean you can't take your anti-acne medication?
    Me - I don't take anti-acne medication. I don't have acne. That's just my eczema acting up really badly.
    N.G.E. - Oh. Well, it's hardly red at all. You can't notice it; it's just that I happen to stare closely at people in strange ways. (chuckles it off, and continues to be the N.G.E.)

Acne. That's what I look like I have right now, I'm so fricking blotchy. I should do an infomercial--the before and after pictures could be done without make-up or photo-touching, as long as they can wait a couple of days for me to get better before they take them! Pfft. I think I'll move on now...

Señorita might drop by tomorrow and go on a quick coffee break with me sometime before my first tri-campus game. That'll be good. She's a nurse, maybe she can fix me. Pfft. But then again, she may not be inclined to be seen with me in public after she gets here to pick me up and actually SEES me. Pfft. Never mind. That was a stupid thought--she's my sista...she HAS to love me, regardless of how I look. Yes chicka, you HAVE to...ring or not, that doesn't count for us!!! Mwahahahahahaha...okay. Back to my laundry...pfft.

Catechisms of the Joy Fuck Club

"I don't know how to be your friend..."
"But she bakes cookies!"
"Long distance won't work."
"But I'll wait..."
...

Why the Joy Fuck Club? Why not? We were sitting around a table over drinks, telling each other of our relationships, our attempts at relationships, and how we'd gotten fucked over at LEAST once in a relationship. Although we didn't really come to any conclusions, we still had each other in the end. At least our relationship works.

Quotes of the Moment:
"Wow! This light is absolutely craptacular!"
    --Brother, refering to the traffic light that was taking FOREVER to change
...

"The argument goes something like this: 'I refuse to prove that I exist,' says God, 'for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.'
    "'But,' says Man, 'the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED.'
    "'Oh dear,' says God, 'I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
    "'Oh, that was easy,' says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next pedestrian crossing."
    --Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy