*rEEEEEEeeeEEEeeEEee rEeEeeeEEEeEEeEEee* Know what that is? That's the sound of cutting glass. Know why? It's friggin COLD outside!!! That's the last time I go out with wet hair but no hat! Serves me right. At least I had both gloves on and shoes that didn't show my toes...

The Things We Should Not Do For Fashion

Today was a typical November day; snow had fallen last night, the wind was biting, and it was overall pretty darned cold as the thermometer wavered around the -2 mark for most of the day. Myself, I had on my UofT fleecy pants on with my blue hoodie and blue Skechers to match. I even wore my "G" hat to ward off the bad-hair-day in progress. I had grabbed my coat and gloves on my way out the door (late again) but neglected to snatch my scarf off the top shelf of the closet. Despite my best dressed efforts, I was still a little on the chilly side as the wind whipped my cheeks to a rosy blush. I would like to say that I'd thought I'd managed to be fairly prepared for the weather, without having committed any fashion faux-pas. Sensible, right?

What I don't get are the people out there that still hold fashion over practicality. As I'd like to think I'd demonstrated today, you can manage to dress for the weather without looking like a total bum. But apparently this isn't apparent to some out there. Let's take a look at what I came across today:

1. High Heeled, Open-toe Sandals - I actually came across two pairs of these. I'm totally for the high heels (most are surprised at how short I actually am when I sport the runners), that wasn't my issue. It's just that when it's below freezing weather out there, and even when I've got my boots on, the first thing to go numb are my toes, yet these girls insisted on being able to show off their freshly painted toenails. Come on, you don't want to lose those babies to frostbite now, do you? Cuz then you won't be able to paint them anymore...
   
   
2. Mini-skirt with a Tank Top - Okay, I understand that she was supposed to be promoting something or other by approaching people and handing out flyers (I didn't get one, probably because I outrightly raised the eyebrow at her as she approached my way) but when your legs are still showing signs of redness after you've been inside for at least half an hour, I think one should have perhaps considered leg-warmers while outside in transit to school--I hear leg-warmers are making a raging comeback in Japan right now, it couldn't hurt. Oh, and can you believe she had the audacity to complain to her friends "It's so cold in here!"?!?!?!
   
   
3. Single Gloves - Unless you're talking about something used to catch flying objects with, gloves are referred to as pairs of things, right? And on a pretty darned cold day, why would you keep one hand warm while allowing the other to suffer? Some guy was wearing only one glove on the bus. Granted, it was on the hand he used to hold the bar with so it could've been his "on-the-bus-bar-holding" glove; this would also explain why it wasn't a regular heat-retentive glove but one that looked more like some sort of cyclist's glove. But still. Why only one? And why not a warm one? I would've preferred that he didn't wear any gloves period, that way I could at least assume that he hadn't any at all...but he wore one and only one. I feel sorry for the other one, it must be somewhere being lonely...
   
   
4. Big Red Plastic Comb Stuck in Hair- No, this was not an afro pick of any sort. It was a one piece, red plastic comb with an extended handle, stuck in some girl's hair. It was jammed up underneath her slicked ponytail. It neither held stray hairs in place, nor helped to hold up the pony-tail in anyway. It was just there. Big, ugly, and red, and it was just sticking out from her head, a menace to eyes and faces that may have leaned too close on the bus. This has nothing to do with the weather (although it did keep her from being able to wear a proper toque or other hat of sorts) but it needed to be included anyway.

I'm not saying that I'm perfect--hell, I left the house with one less earring than I should've been wearing (or one too many, depending on how you look at it)--but at least I'm attempting to be practical. Bring it on, Winter!!!

Hooray For Classes On The Second Floor!

After hearing the whole history behind The Matrix today, I tore out of class to rush to work. Running into the stairwell to head down to the main floor, I had to pause for a sec. I bet most people didn't know, but there was a beautiful red sunset going on just beneath the dark grey skyline, but way above the rest of the landscape. You could only see it if you were higher up somewhere, like the second or third floor of a building. It was so pretty. I stayed to gawk for as long as I could, and then had to tear myself away to continue on my rush to work. By the time I reached the first floor, I couldn't see the sunset anymore. Too bad for people who had no excuse to be upstairs today...
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Quote of the Moment:
"--- is so full of shit. Everything thing he says is shit. When he sneezes, he sneezes shit."
    --Brodder's friend, commenting on another, not-so-reliable friend

I really should be doing my homework right now, but then, what else is new? My voice is slowly coming back. Rather than a raspy whisper, I'm up to a quacking-duck sort of sound level. Really, I sound like a duck. Every once in a while, my loudish whisper will crack and explode into a quack. It's actually quite amusing. Tonight at volleyball I was talking as much as I possibly could, just so I could hear it happen and have a good laugh at myself.

I love the way people I know stare at me while I'm talking. They just can't get enough of the fact of how awful I sound. At the end of our games while shaking hands with the other team, I was tempted to quote obscenities simply because I didn't think they'd hear me. G and I had a laugh about this idea, and then I tested it out with Rye:
    Me - (Slapping a high five) "Kiss my ass, Dickhead,"
    Rye - "Let's do this!!!"
Hehehe, he had no idea...it was great.

Of course after the game, the rest of the team stood around and thought up stupid things for me to say in my quacking-transvestite voice:
    "Hi, my name Rye and I like sauce on my balls,"
    "Hi, my name is Chan and I like pepper on my sausage,"
    "Hi, my name is Gertrude, and I like Rye's saucy balls."
I swear, it's too much sometimes. I'm really going to miss missing my voice when it comes back. Who knew it could be such an amusement?

I'm going to bake cookies this weekend! I'm in the mood for the simple classic chocolate chip ones. Earlier when I first thought about doing this, I figured I was just going to go out and grab some of those Pilsbury cookie dough rolls off the shelf at Dominion, but now that I think about it, I'm gonna give Hun-Gee a run for his money and start from scratch. Exciting. omg, boo. I'M BAKING HIM COOKIES!!! hehehe. It means I'm a keeper, right? :p

In Case You Forget...

I was eating a "Fruit by the Foot" last night while writing my essay, and during a thoughtful pause, I noticed that the packaging actually had instructions on it. Do you know what it read? "Peel fruit from cellophane backing before eating." omg. Really, what do people DO with their food that warrant packaging labels like this? It's like the "Caution: contents may be hot" on coffee cups. Puh-lease people. If you need to read those kinds of things before ingesting your food, you shouldn't be ingesting it at all.

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.
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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
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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.