what i did with my summer vacation (hint: not papers)
Yesterday's Street Party proved to be a learning experience.
I'm living on possibly the whitest street in all of Toronto. When Paul, Zeebs, and Nelly showed up, the natives were exposed to more cultural diversity then they had been, cumulatively, in the last 20 years.
The only brown family lives, aptly, in a brown house. And they didn't come out to the party.
There is one black man, and one biracial child on my street.
Everyone else is a caker.
And then there's us. The Eastern European connection - the pathogen that slips through the cracks and manages to make a home in even the most sanitized and distilled (unhospitable) environments.
There was one comment, as Zeebs and I stood together on the street, "We're more progressive then I thought! A biracial lesbian couple - on our street!" that just said it all.
Besides that, I still haven't finished my paper due last Tuesday, although I did manage to squeeze in three parties, a four hour game of basketball, a field trip, work, cleaning my entire room, uploading pictures onto Facebook, reading two books, and class. There is just no time for papers.
The visit to the Trampoline place was possibly the funnest thing I've done in months. And yesterday, that cute guy I met at Tish's asked me if I'd ever been there. Go figure, eh? I do something for the first time IN MY LIFE - something so utterly out of character and so unlike anything I'd ever do under normal circumstances, and someone asks me about it not even 2 days later! Which just goes to show that you should do random shit often. You might even like it. And then you can do it again.
Anyway, I'm back on the rack of love, as Georgia Nicholson would say, because I am developing a hopeless crush on my neighbour, which is destined to go nowhere because Nelly said so, and I'm actually getting to be deluded enough again to allow myself to hope that that cute guy *will* call because I'd like to hear from him and see him again and go rock climbing. Or something.
He was really cute.
And nice.
And he seemed smart.
And I didn't act like a total dolt. Except for when I walked into the door. And almost fell over on the deck even though I hadn't had anything to drink. And said, "Giant landing pad here" referring to my lap when Nelly was looking for somewhere to sit... oh never mind. I was a total dolt. But maybe he likes dolts.
I hope so. I hope he likes them A LOT.
Frosh leader interview today, Gay Pride, and J.D. from Montreal. Busy busy busy.
No time for papers. Awww, muffin.
30% for lateness off? Oh, who gives a crap?
I'm living on possibly the whitest street in all of Toronto. When Paul, Zeebs, and Nelly showed up, the natives were exposed to more cultural diversity then they had been, cumulatively, in the last 20 years.
The only brown family lives, aptly, in a brown house. And they didn't come out to the party.
There is one black man, and one biracial child on my street.
Everyone else is a caker.
And then there's us. The Eastern European connection - the pathogen that slips through the cracks and manages to make a home in even the most sanitized and distilled (unhospitable) environments.
There was one comment, as Zeebs and I stood together on the street, "We're more progressive then I thought! A biracial lesbian couple - on our street!" that just said it all.
Besides that, I still haven't finished my paper due last Tuesday, although I did manage to squeeze in three parties, a four hour game of basketball, a field trip, work, cleaning my entire room, uploading pictures onto Facebook, reading two books, and class. There is just no time for papers.
The visit to the Trampoline place was possibly the funnest thing I've done in months. And yesterday, that cute guy I met at Tish's asked me if I'd ever been there. Go figure, eh? I do something for the first time IN MY LIFE - something so utterly out of character and so unlike anything I'd ever do under normal circumstances, and someone asks me about it not even 2 days later! Which just goes to show that you should do random shit often. You might even like it. And then you can do it again.
Anyway, I'm back on the rack of love, as Georgia Nicholson would say, because I am developing a hopeless crush on my neighbour, which is destined to go nowhere because Nelly said so, and I'm actually getting to be deluded enough again to allow myself to hope that that cute guy *will* call because I'd like to hear from him and see him again and go rock climbing. Or something.
He was really cute.
And nice.
And he seemed smart.
And I didn't act like a total dolt. Except for when I walked into the door. And almost fell over on the deck even though I hadn't had anything to drink. And said, "Giant landing pad here" referring to my lap when Nelly was looking for somewhere to sit... oh never mind. I was a total dolt. But maybe he likes dolts.
I hope so. I hope he likes them A LOT.
Frosh leader interview today, Gay Pride, and J.D. from Montreal. Busy busy busy.
No time for papers. Awww, muffin.
30% for lateness off? Oh, who gives a crap?
posted by captain obvious at 2:18 p.m.
1 Comments:
"Come here often?"
- Used by guys to find out if you'll be back to try again
"Haven't I seen you here before"
- same as the line above, but the response usually gives more than the line above
e.g.
"No, but I usually hang out at..."
"No, I go to school at (school), maybe there"
and so on
Each question triggers a response, and when the expected response is received, the guy usually finds a way to collect enough information to hold the interest of the girl long enough to make a connection and eventually get a phone number, of which in your case, wont bother calling
:-P
MARKLAND WOODS = White, old white people and thier kids, and thier kids' kids. When I hung out in that 'hood years ago I stayed indoors.
Tomal
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