March 11-12, 2001 — Twitch witch itch

The Internet is currently down. I'm compensating by trash-talking Johnston's calculator. He claims that his Sharp (or "Dull," as I prefer to call it) calculator is better than my Casio. But his doesn't even have the exponent button in a logical place and is generally a piece of garbage. After yelling something about his calculator having gone back to calculator school in the hope of graduating to the same plane of existence as my Casio calculator, I began to realize what a pathetic human being I am without the Internet to keep me subdued.

In the meantime, I've started on my laundry. And my journal. I'm at least being productive, even if there's some misplaced raged coming along with this lack of connectedness. (Note that since my laundry pile was up to my waist, and since I'd been wearing dirty clothes for three days, all this has been a blessing in disguise for those who have to smell me on a semi-regular basis.)

Anyway. On Sunday, I went shopping with Dave, Jess, Johnston, and my sister and her boyfriend. It was the last day in Toronto for everyone (except Johnston), so we went to the most important place of all: Honest Ed's. Disappointingly, I couldn't find the holographic Jesus clocks this time through. I did, however, get a picture of myself with my head in a cannon. And I bought new pants at a store down the street. So not all was lost. I've yet to approach Jeff regarding my plan to have a holographic Jesus clock in every room of our house next year, but I'm sure it'll be fine.

I saw my sister and her boyfriend off at the bus station at 4:30PM and went to dinner with Dave, Jess, Johnston, Nathan, and Laura. (I'm being careful to mention everyone given the hostility I've faced since I left a person or two out of my last journal entry. My long-term solution to this problem is to see people a lot less.)

Later at Ryerson, Laura showed me a picture that she said I looked really good in, but I didn't like it at all. The same thing happened with a picture of me that Gillian said was really good. I think the problem was that I was smiling in both pictures and that I hate how I look when I smile. I think it has a lot to do with my having had braces for so long; now that they're gone, I still hate the thought of smiling, even without my teeth showing. Probably not the healthiest way of living.

After returning to the bus station to see Dave and Jess off on their way to Ottawa, Johnston and I returned home, and I tried to fall asleep early. (By early, I mean before 2:00AM.) It didn't work.

Today, I failed a calculus quiz and attended all my lectures. I'm almost proud of myself. Except that I've only one lecture all day. But hey, I didn't skip anything -- that has to be worth something.

And I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm drowning my sorrows regarding a dead Internet connection in the Offspring's "Smash." It doesn't get better than this.

I should also probably mention that there's talk of going to Buffalo next Monday to see Dashboard Confessional. I'm all for it, so it's mostly a matter of securing tickets. If we can't get tickets, we'll just show up and grovel. And if that doesn't work, we'll try to salvage the trip by tracking down Chris Carrabba and asking him where he buys his shoes. Or something.

A conversation snippet from Saturday that came to mind just after I wrote the last paragraph:

"Do you have these shoes in emo sizing?"
"You mean size eight-and-a-half?"
"Yes."
"No."

Over at iam.bmezine.com, strange things are happening. All these people have "Support BME" pictures as their icons, but they don't explain how to support it or what's wrong. And Shannon, the guy who runs BME, has erased his page at IAM. It's all quite confusing. I submitted my application for the BME webcam pages today, along with the ones at makeoutclub.com. Dave (one of Laura's friends at Ryerson; not the one from Ottawa) told me that a girl with a makeoutclub.com account was linking to my site, but I couldn't find her. A very disappointing state of affairs. After I gave up looking, I signed up for an account and called it even.

I think that's about it. I'm going to return to being a spiteful bastard in the privacy of my own bunk bed, surrounded by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets. The perfect environment to think cynical, spiteful, bitter thoughts. And then some.