My two cents (Dec 21st edition)

So I feel like the world's biggest alcoholic.

I dropped Jer off at his exam, drove to the grocery store to pick up the rest of Christmas dinner (i'll get to that later), and decided to stop at the LB and pick up the last of my christmas shopping (a gag gift. just in case mom is reading this, i'm buying bradley gin to regift). It wasn't open yet.

There is no worse feeling than knowing you're probably the only person in the world who wants to purchase alcohol at 9am on a monday. Le sigh. I died inside just a little bit, which is good cause I'm killing time til 10. What was left of my soul after friday's thrashing at the hands of calculus is very saddened. (According to twitter, calc ate my soul, regurgitated it, then had sex with the remains. Nic, you probably didn't want to read that.)

It's now 9:17 and I'm over it. Onto bigger fish (slash turkey. they're both animals)

I have taken it upon myself to have Christmas dinner in the city. That's right, live and uncensored, this evening Phil partakes on a quest to taste-bud nirvana. (It's only uncensored because the censors can't keep up to my cooking. This meal is rated pg-13 because the previews are full of coarse language and tasteful nudity)

This is the first Christmas in the new house, and I (by influence of my loving brother) would like to start a tradition. He has monday + tuesday exams, so I'm getting the call.

It's your classic man vs. nature plot line. Man buys turkey from the store and conquers it. I'd like to say I did ALL the work (ie, bred two turkeys, raised the offspring, killed it, "handled it", THEN cooked it) but i simply took over halfway and am getting all the glory (or shame). High risk/high reward ;)

You could also see it as a man vs. beast storyline, with the role of "man" being played by a utility turkey.

It's also the wonderful "overcoming obstacles" story everybody loves, as I overcome mild domestic retardation and apparent alcohol dependency (given the 9am liquor store trip) to make a delicious turkey dinner.

But... all of these metaphors assume I'm the hero.

What if I'm not the hero? What if I'm the villain?


Bahaha. Twilight.

Happy Holidays.

Footnotes for a mid-December birthday

When I woke up this morning, the white board in my house already said "Philip is 21 today. Everyone (female was implied here, i believe) give him a pat on the ass for his birthday." Clearly, more people need to come to my house.

Remember how exciting birthdays are when you're little? All your friends get to come over and you get to pick what you have for supper? We're well into our twenties now: our friends come over whenever they want, and we no longer live at home so we eat what we want every day. Freedom!

Now comes the real joy of being born in December: Finals. I get to spend the day learning acids and bases. Thank you satan for your thoughful gift.

(Spoiler alert!!! If you don't want to read a mildly detailed explanation of me freezing off certain unmentionable parts of my anatomy, you should probably just skip over this next paragraph. Mom, this probably means you)

In all honesty though, even if I wasn't currently using the steel pants of studying to protect myself from a hot chem injection on Monday morning, I still wouldn't be venturing out. There is a high of minus thirty (that is raw temperature, not including windchill). I am still in my pajamas and very warm. I will choose the lame option of staying at home, because I am rather attatched to my testicles and don't want to risk going outside, freezing them off, having them shatter when they hit the ground and be forced to spend my sunday morning cleaning shattered ball off of my sidewalk. No thank you.

Phil's birthday plan: I will study chem for a little while. I will stop before I decide I hate my life, curl up (probably still in my pajamas) with a warm blanket and a beer and watch an NHL double-header. This is safe, because I don't like any of the 4 teams playing tonight (on a related note, fuck vancouver. i hope you lose but the sedins get points anyway), so I can't be disappointed. Two of them are going to lose.

I shall celebrate my birthday in a manner that society would approve of one day when I'm not scared about becoming a lady as soon as i exit my house. Or worried about the dirty things my exam will do to me if I'm not prepared. Besides, my roommate hits the magical 19 in a few days.

Cheers.

I swear the weirdest shit can only happen to me...

So I have an exam tomorrow night. I was actually ahead of the game, left the house yesterday to catch the 1150 bus to campus for a day-long study session with a friend from class.

And then i got shot with a pellet gun.

I heard a "woooosh" (damn my vulcan hearing), and then my hand started to hurt like a bitch. A few minutes later, I heard another woooosh. My memory is hazy, but I am pretty sure I saw the pellet and dodged it Matrix-style. Then I stood behind the neighbour's car (beside the bus stop) for the next minute til the bus pulled up.

So i'm sitting on the bus thinking "this is weird". I pull my glove off to text my friend and let her know I'm on my way, only to find out that my hand is bleeding.

Well, anybody who has seen me play sports knows that I am very good at controlling my anger.

So I found my friend, we hopped the bus to my house, and I called the Po-po's. "The cops are so nice to you when you tell them you got shot."1 She asked if I needed medical attention (I laughed), then they sent a dude to my house. He figures the shot came from the trailer park (due to the angle of the shot, and also due to negative stereotypes). Nothing came out of it, but it's in the system.

All in all, a weird day. But it has given me an excellent bar line. "hey baby, i got shot. But i'm standing here to talk about it".

I have also found that when you ask someone "how was your day", and they didn't have a particularly good day, saying "I got shot" pretty well trumps anything.

It has been suggested that I'm like a cat, with the whole 9-lives thing. This has me worried. I know this counts as one, the tractor "blowing up" was probably another one, but I don't know how many others I've pissed away... My demise is definitely gonna come from misjudging how many lives I have left.

Well, I think that wraps up the bizarre series of events that is my life.

ps, nobody is allowed to miss my exam tomorrow for any reason. Fuck ILI, I got shot and I'm still gonna be there Goddammit.

1. I twoted this yesterday. It got interesting reactions.

... continued from earlier today.

...

My apologies. I forgot something. In my defence, my mind has been kinda bottled all week. You know, when it feels like it's shaking around and nothing can get out, like it's trapped in a bottle? Anyway...

So the other night, ......


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We interrupt Phil's sexy blog to bring you this announcement.

WOMEN EVERYWHERE, STOP WATCHING THE TWILIGHT SERIES! HUMAN BOYS NEED LOVE TOO!!!!!!

*****************************

........ and that's where the cops found me. So i'm not allowed in the morgue anymore for obvious reasons. **shamed** Well, I think that's it. Until next time folks!

Now that I finally have a few minutes...

Yes I know, it's been a while. I've missed me too. Now that I have made a few minutes of free time, here are a few things that I have been unhappy with lately...

*The Greeks. Without them, my math might actually have numbers in it.

*People (not you, just people in the general sense). Please, for the love of God, do not answer your cell phone on the quiet floors of the library. Please. Yes, we all talk now and again to keep from going crazy, but this is a few words here and there, not half a conversation. Text your stupid friend to tell him where you are. Or walk to near the stairwell.

*The girl who sits in front of me in Stats. Why are you even there? The dude i sit beside doesnt write notes either, but at least he pays attention and isn't distracting. Really, if you want a room to work on statics in, there is probably a LIBRARY somewhere. Or are you there so that you can flirt with the dude who always wears the Riders hat? I have news for you: he's a douche. He was the guy who complained about everyone cheating on the exam, and about not having enough time. That, and he uses the phrase "my girlfriend" in every sentence. She sounds made up.

*Tuukka Rask, backup goalie in Boston. I picked Tim Thomas in the draft, so you can just go ahead and fuck off anytime now.

*Time. If i could control you, I would do MUCH better in chem labs.

In a rare occurrance, here are some things I have been happy with lately...

*santa hats.

*Football. The only things sweeter than watching burrASS throw 3 interceptions is when burrASS also gets tackled for a loss 4 times. And referring to him as burrASS.

*Heidi's "geology face": it's that look that reminds me i'm not the only one who thinks this class might drive me into future alcoholism.

*Calculus. Textbook: $110.00; Assorted Pens, Highlighters, a Pencil, and a Notebook: ~$5.00; NOT getting my ass kicked by a bunch of dead Greeks: priceless.

Basketball wrap-up

I look and feel like a cage fighter. This would of course be under Ron Burgundy rules, with no touching of the hair or face. But besides that, yeah. My poor arms. I bruise like a peach.

This was one of those games I used to love in high school. Me an Nut combine for 6-quarters worth of bench minutes (cause we're in bad shape), 4 points and 10 fouls. Grade 10 all over again. On one hand, God I missed this. But on the other hand, I think I'm too old for this shit.

In high school, after a game like this, we would all high-5 and be ready to go at er again the next morning. Now, it hurt to brush my teeth. Let's keep in mind that my pain tolerance is relative mild. Compared to an infant.

On a not entirely unrelated topic, Jer has shown his versatility. Aside from playing center, he is also filling the position of "Safety Ambassator" for our roster. We are happy to have him, as we have never had the position filled by a man of his stature. (I am more than happy to give that job up)
Good on ya, and just remember, when the going gets tough, the tough get fouled out.

Phil's Halloween Notebook

This Halloween, I learned an important lesson on drawing attention to one's self. It's a no-brainer that for a girl to draw attention to herself, she should simply dress like a slutty ANYTHING, (I saw aerobics instructors, bumblebees, grandma/cat ladies, and the list goes on) although going the other route is far more respectable. For a dude to draw attention to himself, he must dress as Sidney Crosby.

A girl in Subway walked in, saw me standing at the til, said to her friend "OH MY GOD ITS SIDNEY CROSBY!!!!", walked up, and asked me if i was the real sidney crosby. (I point out that this particular subway is beside a skeezy bar) In a split decision, I chose to be honest. Had i said "yes, wanna come back to my place?" i would have made this girl's night... until we got to my house (which is in saskatoon, because after all, that's where sidney is from o.O) and, upon realizing, she screamed "YOU'RE NOT CROSBY!!! YOU'RE A FAKE!!! THIS JERSEY COMES RIGHT OFF!!!"

This all ran through my mind at that moment, and I chose to not crush the dreams of this poor girl. Keep searching, lady. I have faith in your ability to bed Sid the Kid.

The attention went on. Walking into cochet's house party, three girls on mark's couch pointed at the door and exclaimed to their friends "IT'S CROSBY!!" Then, when jer walked in behind me, they said "IT'S CROSBY AGAIN!!!"

But the eyes of both genders were drawn. On my walk from Subway to my buddy's house, 3 different guys yelled "CROSBY'S A FAG. GO OVECHKIN". Poor dudes couldn't see that I had a soother in my mouth and a bad teenage moustache as part of the crosby attire. (note 3) Also, drunk people are distasteful.

A few closing notes:
1. Crosby: love him or hate him, pretending to be him makes the night far more entertaining.
2. Crazy Subway girl, if i was in fact Sid, I would not be caught dead at a Subway in Saskatoon. I would spring the extra couple bucks and eat at Quizznos.
3. If you are pissing behind a dumpster on the corner of 33rd and Idywyld while the cops are parked at that corner, you have no business making fun of ANYBODY. (for you out-of-towners, this is a busy corner. it'd be like peeing on the corner of 114th and whyte)


I close on an unrelated note: I am bothered by snowfall. It's white, it's on my land, and I don't like it.

The ramblings of a man who has used his brain too much lately

I wish i still lived in Lister. I've done too many midterms. My brain is fried and I'm feeling stupid (not unintelligent, but that I could go for some unintelligent things right now). I could totally go for some lounge sports, or something equally dumb like elevator twister.

This long stretch of school-related activity explains my recent leave of absence.
I have class in forty minutes, but the bus just drove away so I'll write for a while before i drive there.

I have never been so upset whilst grocery shopping as I was the other day. This old dude was in the produce looking for carrots, so I waited patiently behind him. Then I got sick of waiting and went alongside him to reach for my own vegetables, only to see him fingering through ALL OF THE CARROTS SUPERSTORE HAS TO OFFER. So that was gross.

The grossest part is, 5 minutes later i saw him at the other end of the produce. I peeked in his basket and HE DIDN'T EVEN BUY ANY FUCKING CARROTS. (this is far more entertaining if you pictured me acting out my story. i talk with my hands, and blame my ancestors for this) There is a lesson here somewhere. I think it is "wash your vegetables".

*le sigh*

on a happy note, i'm T minus 10 days from another karate tournament. and to understand the mindset that 47 consecutive midterms put me in, just listen to "War" by the Sick Puppies. Get ready Hank. This time I'm bringing the pain.

ps. night class sucks.

So this is what the PLAGUE felt like

My head hurts. My throat is sore and I'm stuffed up. There is only one possible explanation:

I'm dying.

*tear

In the event of my demise, my lawyer and I have arranged a fight to the death for my things. This will be done PA-style. (All of my stuff will be placed on my lawn and on the signal, anything goes in a last-man-standing/make it out alive event that will be shown on PPV. Those of you with looting experience have the edge)

I kid. But seriously, I worry. I don't want to walk into Calgary next weekend, get punched in the nose and splatter mucus all over the place. That'd be pretty rank.

I'm willing to try anything. When I woke up I took my normal swineless-flu procedure: I wandered up the stairs in a haze, put the advil on my tongue and washed it down with a shot of Buckley's. This seemed to work, as I feel a little better. Although I think this may be purely psychological. My taste buds fear another round of Buckley's so they trick my brain into thinking I feel better.

I should be in the shower right now: that is part of standard procedure, but I felt the need to share this morning's experience with all (4) of you. I enjoy the thought that the events of my life make you laugh or cry.

Come to think about it, there has been a reoccurring theme I've noticed lately. Old people in the grocery store try to help me. This started at Costco a few weeks ago when I picked up a bottle of Chili sauce. It had no sooner touched the cart than I heard an older lady tell me "that's really good; you'll like that."

Then, Tuesday I was at Superstore. I was scurrying through the produce eyeing up what I still needed to find (which was jalapenos, btw) when this old guy says "you'd better follow that list closely". I explained to him that I wrote the list, and I could probably forgive myself for forgetting something. (I was wrong, and am going back in a few minutes. le sigh.)

I've decided on two possible options: either my life looks so magnificent from the outside that people comment just to be a part of it, or my life appears so sad that random old people try to help me just to fill their good samaritan points.

But I'm off topic. Right now I'm open to any sort of voodoo spell/gypsy un-curse/desperate housewife cure for swineless flu-aid. I really don't want to enter next weekend a gross, mucusy bomb that nobody wants to be near. I suppose I could just not get punched in the nose.

Plan B will be leading with my chin.

I feel an introduction is necessary

It's 1146. I should most definitely be asleep, or doing something productive. Yet here we are. Aside from actually creating a blog, I feel the need to begin so that the reader does not feel cheated when they search my thread only to see cobwebs and hear crickets.

The origin of this thread is an interesting story (in my opinion). I used to fill my study time writing only the most humorous of my thoughts in the form of the F*cebook note (name censored for copyright reasons). Upon reading my latest work, my mother called to congratulate me. She felt I could have enjoyed a long, successful career as a journalist. Telling this story to a close friend, the idea of a blog began to surface.

Yes, that pretty much brings us to now. People like to say, "and the rest is history" but in this case there really IS no "rest". That's it.

A title was a little bit trickier to decide upon. I was looking for something that grabbed your attention span by the testicles, but my clever Offspring lyric "and the voices told me to blow you away" was dangerously close to the only other blog I have read in my life. And then I thought to myself, "self, what would both brighten the reader's day and connect with their thoughts at this exact second?" I decided upon a bit of a catch phrase. A tag line, if you will...

"You are entering the mind of P Charles Boutin. What's the matter? Has your day already been shot to hell?"

peace

ps, i would like to thank steph, and my loving mother, for inspiring this blog. outside motivation is sorely underrated.