Cars and me don't always get along... but somehow I have a full license!

I'm not altogether sure I should have got my license today. Although, there is no part of the test that is marked on "How to fill your gas tank" I guess.

I took my G test this morning, after 4 years and 9 months worth of procrastination. Passed, with what I will call flying colours, because there is no percentage involved, but he only mentioned two things which I should not do, and they were really dumb oversights. (Not like that time I ran into a mailbox -- that was fun...)

I am especially proud of myself because I was driving a rental that I was only in possession of for 24hrs (actually, 24.5 hours, since I was late bringing it back.) Parrallel parking, therefore, was a challenge, but not an impossibility, as I so valiantly proved this morning at the ungodly hour of 9am. Actually, the test-time wasn't particularly early, but the getting-up early to practice in the freezing cold and darkness felt decidedly shitty, and I am very tired as a result. I also have a kink in my neck from checking my blindspots excessively. Seriously -- I got the cramp mid-way through the test and it has yet to go away.

But the reason I am not altogether sure I should have a license is the little adventure that I had at the gas station this afternoon, just before I brought the car back. I drive to the gas-station, already late because I got distracted by pretty things in the mall, pull in (thankfully on the right side) and have to wait forever for the people in front of me to fill up their apparently gigantic and completely empty gas tanks. Then, I pull up and get out of the car, swipe the card, pick up the gas nozzle thing, and go to open up the er...uh... the... door-that-covers-the-hole-where-the-gas -goes-into-the-tank(?) -- In the end, I'm pretty sure that is not the technical term, but whatever. Anyway, the point is -- I can't get it open. The thing wont pry open (I have 3 broken fingernails to prove it,) I tried pushing it in the vain hope that it would pop-open, no dice, and then I ('cause really, im not that much of an idiot) go into the car and search for a teeny button somewhere that will pop the thing. Can't find one. Do the pulling and the pushing again, knowing that some idiot is watching me in the cameras, is pissing his pants laughing, and will most likely put the thing up on Youtube. By this time the machine has started beeping at me, and has cancelled my order since it has been left alone so long, and I begin to problem-solve. Someone pulls up at the station behind me, and I am on the verge of asking the driver for help -- when I realize this guy is approximately 90 years old and is going to know less about a relatively-new Hyundai Accent than I do. So I go and get the owner's manual in the glove-box, and start flipping through it frantically -- they have advice on what kind of gas to use, but damned if I could find anything about how to open the door! I finally find the button, it was inside the car, in a very weird place, start filling the gas up, and get in and finally, thankfully get to drive away.

...Hah -- you think this is done, huh? Not enough humiliation for me yet, though.

I get halfway to the rental place before I look at the gas meter and see that actually the dial is not quite at full --shit-- they will charge me if I don't fill it to full! And so I drive BY the rental place and go to the next gas station, which is this totally ghetto one from the 1940's I swear to god, and is not even full-serve. I stoically start pushing random buttons, and get it to work after another 5 minutes of fumbling around. then I fill it up -- 2 whole dollars worth -- AND manage to get gasoline on my shoes! (I always thought it would be brown, for some reason, but it is definately clear.)

THAT is the end. Minus the part about the cashier laughing at me for a 2 dollar gas bill.

But that is just adding insult to injury.

Uhh. Oct. 17th 2006. (hows that for a title?)

Well, today was a busy day. Full of class, and errands, and spending money, and homework, and parrallel parking.

I got myself the beginnings of a Halloween costume, and over 200 dollars worth of food, most of which will last me until December as it is non-perishable (thank god). I am going to be Batgirl, and I am very excited. This is big for me, because I don't usually take the opportunity that Halloween offers to girls: the option to dress as much as a prostitute as you like, with free licence. But I am this year! Well, sortof. I plan to have minimal skin showing. lol

Anyway, its midnight and I have a driving test tomorrow morning, so I don't know why I started this post. But at least I did -- it means that maybe I will get back on the horse, or the camel, or whatever, and continue posting. Which is a good thing. haha.

An hour and a half has never felt this long... except for yesterday.

So there is no time like the present for blogging. I am sitting in a class that I have already (in essence) been to this week - and there is nothing worse than sitting through the same boring shit alll over again. Poor Mr. R, either he is just out of practice at teaching after a year's sabbatical, or, he spent that year using up the remainder of his faculties on the book he wrote, and is now completely senile.

See, the thing is that I have Prof. R for two very similar classes this semester. They are both Shakespeare classes (reading 13 of his plays this semester, oh joy.) So this overload of Shakespeare that has a worse consequence: Prof. R has the same "drama" introduction for both courses. So, I get to listen to him ramble (because he is the king of ramblings, digressions and wild tangents) about 'How to read plays' (as if in my 4th year of an honours language double major, I didn't know) 'How drama got started' (learned that in my 2nd year class with him) 'The stages of drama from ancient Greece on to Elizabethan England' (name dropping basically, Sophocles, Aristotle etc) 'The church's problems with theatre' .... etc....etc....etc...

over, and over, and over, and over and over...............................

Stuff has been beyond weird this year. I have never before started my "end of year" countdown in September. (Only 6 1/2 more months to go!)

Anyhow, the guilt is eating away at me. I think I look really fake because no one else but me is typing/writing, simply because we have all realised that notes to this would be useless, and so I look particularly suspicious (foolish) typing away.

Post-op.

It's happened. I've oficially become my own special version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I have isolated myself in my clock-tower (attic) with nothing but gargoyles (family) for company. I have no contact with the outside world (because I refuse to answer the phone or the door) except for my good friend Esmerelda (Rachel) who I once saved from... er... an evil priest guy.

So the thing got done yesterday, and I am just about the least happy kid on the block right now. My face has swollen to gigantic proportions, ice notwithstanding. Somehow, my face is actually rectangular in shape, and its so perfect it's slightly scary. Reminiscent of a perverted chipmunk, I'd say -- a cross between Simon and the regular types because of my glasses. I have a pic of myself, but I'm not going to post it -- yes, I am that hideous.


+

Dentists suck.

The whole right side of my face is frozen and I keep accidentally biting my tongue. I also can't eat anything til the freezing is gone, which sofar has been 3 and a half hours, and coul take up to 7, and Ive only eaten a piece of bread all day and im fucking starving!

The worst part is that this was only a couple cavities.... My wisdom teeth are going to be SO MUCH WORSE! *sob*

Hey mr. X...

Man, I am such a baby.

I never thought I was such a baby, but I'm sitting here googling "fractures of the fifth metatarsal" and "foot surgery" and looking at x-rays where people have gotten screws put into their feet, and crying and generally being a big baby. It's weird, you know? I've had a looooooooong time to get used to the whole idea - it didn't come as a surprise when the SURGEON I was referred to said "you have to have surgery." Gee, no kidding. I don't know what I'm scared of more, someone cutting me open and putting screws into my foot, or not being able to walk for three months afterwards. I'm horrified at the thought of not being able to do anything for myself.

And it makes me feel bad that there are people out there who have to deal with being an invalid all the time. It makes me feel badly that Marissa is across the hall rolling her eyes at my fear because she had a curve in her spine and had to have a steel rod fused to her spinal cord.

The closest I've come to surgery is when I rode my bike into a ravine and smashed my face into rocks. I have to get stitches in my forehead and nose and mouth. I was staying at my aunt's house while my dad was having a "romantic weekend" with his girlfriend in some motel. When he drove me the 8 hours home to my mother's, I wouldn't get out of the car. mom says that I told her I was worried she wouldn't love me anymore 'cause I was ugly.

I can't even talk to anyone about any of this anymore. Marissa is sick of hearing about it, I know because she rolls her eyes if I say my foot is hurting me. Kate is more subtle but I'm sure she is as well, mostly though, I think it's that she doesn't know what to say, because there's nothing she can do. I can't talk to my mom because she doesn't understand why I'm worrying now and I don't even have a date for the surgery yet. She says I'm creating problems for myself. Secretly I think she just doesn't know what to say either. So, I get to tell you. through email, which you don't ever check anyway. haha. And when you do get it you won't know what to say either.

Anyway, I should get to bed...sorry for dumping on you.

'night

Hey.... Shh... Apparently I feel like posting again.


It's halfway through March already, which means I haven't posted in... a very long time. I've had loads of adventures since I last posted -- got an appartment with a stranger whose dad knows my mom, found out I have to get surgery on my foot and be on crutches for 3 months, bought a tube top, got drunk for the first time since who knows when, had my computer stolen from me by evil Business Depot people for 3 whole weeks, had tests, and written papers, been to a play, and bought a new winter coat for 800% off -- it's been good. Stressful, a lot of the time, but good. I'm happy.

It's nice.

AHAHAH - awesome!

Too funny:

Jaques Chirac tricked by Canadian hoax

Totally worth reading. hee hee. Canadians made a funny.

Random pics

Here are two pics. One is of me with some random creepy mannequin's in the change-rooms at the Gap, and the other is my first "snowman" (very teeny) of the year. huh.