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The Great Parasite Adventure

Yesterday afternoon Jessie and I were playing with Rumble and when I picked him off of the coffee table, Jessie squealed and pointed at a small white thing now worming itself around on the surface where Rumble had been sitting.

"What is that?" She exclaimed. Still holding Rumble, I bent down to have a closer look.
"Oh my God," I say.
"Did that come out of him?"
"I'm calling the vet."

I called the vet and had a conversation with the girl at the desk. She was just about killing herself laughing, and told me to bring the thing into the lab.

Ten minutes later, Jessie and I were at the vet, handing over the small white worm in a ziploc bag, and receiving one small pill in exchange.

Back home again where I dosed Rumble (he was actually quite cooperative), and then Jessie and I started in with the disinfecting. I emptied the litterbox and bleached it out, then we swept and bleach-mopped the floors. I stripped the sheets and blankets off the beds and washed them in hot water, and we took all the throw blankets and pillows from the living room and washed them as well.

While all this was happening Rumble was running around and meowing, but I didn't think anything of it until I walked into Tasha's bathroom and caught him peeing on the bathmat. Poor little guy had had to go, couldn't find his litterbox, and so used the next best thing. I scolded him, but not to severely. After all, it wasn't really his fault. Refilled the litter box and added the bathmat to the pile of rugs to wash which we were going to wash today.

This afternoon, while Tasha is getting ready to go home for the weekend she asks if we washed it, and we said not yet, but that it was on the to-do list. She said, "well you know that cat pee doesn't come out if you let it set, and if it leaves a stain I'm not going to be happy." The clear implication that if we didn't get it clean she would expect us to replace it. I just about snapped. I got up and went into my room, completely ignoring her, and fighting to repress the urge to shout, "if you cared that d*mn much you could have washed it yourself" at her.

She is positively infuriating. She's totally anti-social. She's always in her room and while we're expected to tippy-toe around her and keep our music and tv down, she's allowed to blast her music - with a subwoofer - at 11 in the morning when our other roommate is still sleeping. She uses all the pots and hardly ever washes them. She's always on the phone. She complains about money when she has the most of any of us. She refuses to drive us anywhere, even to the grocery store. She whines to her parents about every stupid detail of her life. She doesn't acknowledge us when we greet her. And yet she wants me to replace her bathmat? Thank God I had enough sense not to tell her about the tapeworm, she'd probably want me to replace all of her sheets and blankets and pay for professional carpet cleaning.

I just want to shake her. Grab her and shake her until her little self-centered world blows up in her face.

A well spent afternoon

I should be sick more often! After only a 1/2 hour nap I managed to read 20 pages of a book for Rites of Passage, write 1/3 of my presentation for tomorrow, create questions to ask the class during the discussion after my presentation, create a new family in The Sims 2, and eat alphabet soup.

Alright, the sims part wasn't very productive, but I think I've done pretty well for being under the weather. I was still going at it too until Rumble jumped up on my bed, amidst the papers and books, and took off with my pencil. I took it as a hint that it was break time.

I think now it's time to have a shower and have some supper so that I can head of early to my evening class. They booked us in a room that's too small for the number of people that show up every week, although I don't think that everyone is registered - it's a great class so people bring their friends too. The prof doesn't mind (why would he?) but it does make seating a bit of an issue. I plan to be there twenty minutes early so that I don't have to worry about tripping over people in the isles.

A Day Off...Almost

I woke up this morning and seriously debated calling in sick, rolling over and going back to sleep, but I told myself that often once you get up and moving you feel better. After all, it's only a cold. I dragged myself up and out to work on campus.

I got there and worked for all of an hour before they sent me home. The girls were all a chorus of: "Get out of here with your sick", "Go home and go to bed", "You're not welcome with your plague", "And don't come back until you're better!". All said in the most friendly of ways.

So now I am home and will spend the next few hours curled on the couch reading.

My aunt is likely taking Jessie and I to Ikea this weekend. Jessie wants to get a rectangular pine table ($49.99) and I want to get a shoe rack ($6.49). Maybe I'll splurge and get two shoe racks. Woo hoo. Jessie has never been to an Ikea (small town kid that she is) and my aunt loves to go to Ikea. In fact, so do most of my cousins. Last I heard two of the four cousins were coming - one to get a chair, and the other because he likes the $1 breakfasts.

That's about all that's new. I'm on walksafe dispatch tonight, so I get to sit in the office, answering phones, sending out walk teams, playing euchre with those left behind, and doing homework. It's a nice way to spend an evening, and I don't even mind being out until 2 tonight since I can sleep in until noon on Thursdays if I want to (yay no class!).

Bad Monday

What a day. I was on walksafe shift last night (in the rain) and didn't get home until 2am, and then I had work this morning at 9am, so had to be up at 8. Disgusting.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I woke up with a sore throat and a headache. I've caught the horrible bug that's going around.

Because of this bug, we were horribly understaffed at work and it was down to just three of us, one of whom left early since she was also feeling pretty gross. Or rather, we sent her home because she was throwing up and we can't have that around the customers/food/us. She didn't want to though. She wanted to stay. My thoughts: she's nuts.

On top of all that it was insanely busy, and while it was just the 2 of us it was go-go-go for about 3 hours straight, at which point I said to the girl I was working with that if I didn't get a break soon I was going to pass out. So she called our boss and sent me on a break. After a tea and a muffin and a sit for 15 minutes, I was feeling a lot better, but still not super.

Then at 3:15 they sent me to another building on campus that was down to no staff at all, and I was there for 45 minutes before the girls they had called in arrived. Then finally home.

Terrible terrible day.

A University Newspaper

My university, like most universities, publishes a student newspaper. The issues come out every Wednesday, and while it has some garbage articles, it is, by and large, a good publication. Today, however, was simply appalling. They published in it the following article entitled "A Gentleman's Guide to Getting Laid at [My University]:

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There's no doubt about it: whether they're 17-year-old or approaching their mid twenties, the young women of [my university] are promiscuous by nature.

A fourth-year biology student here at [my university], I have experienced this myself on occasion. But why? I have no car. I have no money. I don't even buy my textbooks until late October. But I've had it all: one-night stands, flings, slings, long-distance, short-distance - you name it.

Having spent over three years on this campus, I've finally done enough field work to be qualified to give sound advice on picking up [these] girls. What you're about to read cannot be found in any Maxim, Cosmo or Seventeen magazine. The secret is what I like to call "[my university]'s tricks-of-the-trade".

First Year
You're underage, and you're sleeping five feet away from a guy who says he's from some place called Sarnia...whatever.

You realize taking girls out to Yogun Fruz on your [meal-plan] will only get you so far, and that's why you went out and did what I did in first year: you dropped two-hundred bucks at the poster sale!

That's right, if I wanted to get action in first year, I just had to bust out the "Hey, come back to [my rez] and check out the cool posters I bought at the poster sale" line. (Works on every Arts girl, most BBA girls, and will make you the envy of every 17-year-old on campus.)

Second Year
Second year was a little different. Girls no longer fell for the trusty poster approach and my [meal-plan] was clean out of alternative dollars. It was only natural that I advanced to the "go to [the bar] and hump anything with a pulse on the dance floor" approach.

The [My University] Law of Numbers ([MU]LN) states that, and I quote, "if you hump enough girls at [the bar], one will always take you home." Necessary [MU]LN precautions include "double-bagging" and making sure you're boozed up enough so you won't delve into the realm of sobriety before your magical night ends.

Third Year
This is the year that you realize young women have needs too. You will find you need to have something to offer - something to give in return. While you must steer clear away of bribery, you will need to give the girl some 'incentive' to hook up with you.

That's why this will be the year of the "Come over for drinks at my place...I have Red Bull" approach and, one of my personal favourites, "Wanna come over and get high after class?" approach. Feeling a little more conservative? Try the "Come over and watch the Pearl Jam DVD" method.

If you're still working the bar scene, you should try something more tactical than the [MU]LN and recruit yourself a good Wingman. There's nothing more valuable than having a friend who's willing to slay the dragon while you get to score with the princess. Remember, it's common courtesy to buy your Wingman a stiff drink before leaving him on the battlefield.

Fourth Year
With my fourth and final year underway, the enemy appears smarter than ever. Though most of them have caught on to my devious sexual advances, the majority of my female cohort as falled completely helpless to the seventeen different coloured Lacoste shirts of mine.

Though I have had to change my approach from year to year, there is one thing that has never changed: in one way or another, [My University] girls put out.

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How offensive is that?? Disgusting! Now, here is the rebuttal I wrote and will be submitting to the newspaper....

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I, along with many other [My University] women, had the intense displeasure of reading a truly degrading article by [The Author] in the last issue of [Our Newspaper]. Diguised as a "how to" guide for the new men entering [My University], the article tore at the dignity and respect for [My University] women, labeling them as "promiscuous", desperate for any man that waves an athletic jersey at them, and claiming that all "[My University] girls put out".

This was no "gentleman's guide". No gentleman would ever dream of saying these things. THis was a gross overgeneralization of all the female members of the [My University] student community. I may have met a few pathetic, lonely [My University] men trying to prove that they're big players, but I don't dare to generalize that to the greater population, because I know that it would be unequivocally false to say that all [My University] men are heartless losers only out to score.

In a university where women outnumber men 3:2, I was shocked to read this article. No newspaper that had even the slightest bit of respect for women would have published this travesty - never mind a newspaper that's majority readership is female.

I believe that [The Author] owes an apology to all [My University] women, and I sincerely hope that he never gets laid again.

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Short, and to the point. Any comments before I fire this thing off to the presses?

All in 20 minutes

It's 11:58 pm on Tuesday, and I just got home. I got home from class to an empty house, so called Fitzy to find out where everyone was. Foolish me, I forgot that my roommates were going to do laps down at the pool tonight. He invited me over, and I said to give me a half hour to read this article I have to do a report on by Thursday.

Half an hour later I was on my way to Fitzy's. I didn't read the article. I didn't even pick up the article. I was so exhausted after today that I had no initiative, and I spent the time talking to some friends on msn instead. I went to Fitzy's. We watched Sin City, a truly bizarre movie. I came home.

I get home, I realize that I told a friend that I'd visit the Fort (walksafe headquarters). It is now 12:01 am on Wednesday. I look at the walksafe schedule. She's partnered up with a guy I kind of like, or at least would like to know better. Even more reason to go visit them, but I know that once I get there I'd stay for far too long. I'm already up to late. I have to be at work in 9 hours. The logical, rational, sane thing to do would be to just go to bed now, but I am very tempted to visit.

It's 12:03 am, I take out my contacts. My eyes are sore. These new contacts that are supposedly better for me are uncomfortable as anything. I was told I'd get used to them, and if they are better for me, then I'll suffer through. Since I only see out of the one eye, I'm try to play it cautious.

I put my glasses on. It's 12:05 am. I see the bills on my end table and pray my osap comes soon. I see the health plan opt out form on my desk and remind myself to take the forms in to the office...when? Not tomorrow, I work all day. Thursday morning. I'll do it Thursday morning. Oh, but I have that paper to write. If I don't get that paper done tomorrow then I'll have to finish up Thursday morning. Then I'll take the forms on Friday.

Having mentally scheduled out my time for the next few days, I look at the clock. 12:07 am. There is no way I'm going to visit those at the Fort tonight. Maybe tomorrow, after my night class, if I can finish my paper tomorrow afternoon, which is somewhat unlikely.

I look to my left. There's stuff strewn across my bed. Do I take the extra minutes to put everything away properly before I climb into bed, or do I place the pile on the floor to be delt with in the morning? I won't deal with it in the morning. I know me. I'll clean it up now. It's 12:10 am.

12:14 am. My bed is clear, everything is away, and I'm in my pjs. Rumble sits crouched on my bed, watching me as I type. One of the pages I found on my bed is a volunteer form for the Run For The Cure, a run to raise money for breast cancer. I haven't run at all this year and I don't have enough time to fundraise, but I can still volunteer. I can still be involved, and maybe I'll run next year. If I ever get around to going to the gym. I may be strange, but I prefer running on the machines than outside. When I have my own place I'll get a machine. I'll actually use it - I know I will. The only reason I don't run now is because I hate how hot and crowded the gym is. But they did just renovate the complex. Maybe it's better now. I haven't been yet this year.

It's 12:18 am. This is silly. I'm turning off my lights and going to bed. Good night.

Issue Resolved

Turned out to be not a big deal at all. I talked to Tasha and she was pretty reasonable about it. She said she'd need to look at long distance plans and everything before we changed stuff, but now she's looked at it and I'm going to call the people at Rogers tomorrow and get everything sorted out.

This means that as of October 9th (probably) I will be at a different telephone number. I'll let you know via email what that is when I get it.

That is all.

Slight Issue

I have my first assignment due on Thursday. Sigh. It's pretty basic, I just have to read a 25 page article, summarize, and comment on it. Boring. Luckily it's by Clifford Geertz, and I generally love his work. Still not the most inspired assignment. I'm taking a break from the reading to blog.

We're having slight roommate issues. Our one roommate, Tasha, is constantly on the phone. And I mean constantly. She has a long-distance boyfriend that she talks to for one hour every evening, plus sporadically throughout the day. Then she has to talk to her parents for an hour every evening as well. This basically means that the phone is occupied from roughly 7-9/10 pm, the peak phone times. If Jessie or I get a call during that time, she'll bring us the phone, but stand there waiting because she'll have someone on the other line. It's really quite irritating. Generally if I'm on the phone and there's a call on the other line, I either take a message or get off the phone. I don't stand there waiting for the phone back.

Jessie has said that she used to spend a lot more time on the phone, but now she's lucky to talk once a week for any decent length of time. Her friends are getting annoyed with the fact that they can never talk to her or have to deal with phone calls after 10 when they'd rather be out or doing work.

Also, the way it is now, while Jessie and I are each paying 1/3 of the phone bill, we're certainly not using 1/3 of the phone time. Obviously, this is a problem.

Jessie and I were talking about it, and we've decided that we'll get our own line. Tasha can use the line that's in now, that's fine, we'll just get our own in our rooms. We also asked the fourth roommate, Elsie, and she's all up for sharing with us too. The only reason she isn't now is because she knew that Tasha used the phone so darn much. It seems like a good solution, but I'm kind of hesitant to bring it up with Tasha since it's going to mean a significant increase to her phone bill. Rather than splitting it 3 ways, she'll have to pay it all on her own. Still, I think it's the best solution to the problem.

I'm really not looking forward to the conversation though. Ugh.

Frosh Week Photo

Here's the group shot from Frosh Week. All the members of the walksafe program that participated in Frosh. I realize the quality is not so great, but it's the best I can do. Can you guess what our team colours are? (hint: there are two)

A Good Lecture

The first week of class now over. It was tremendous. Strangely enough, I think the class that I might enjoy the most is the one I was fearing the most, Mass Media in a Globalized World. The professor is just hysterical. A large part of the lecture was analyzing magazine advertisements. While this may not sound entertaining, it was. Photograph number one was an old picture of the Marlboro Man taken about 20 years ago. He's sitting on a stool with his legs splayed and crotch very central as he looks back over his shoulder. He's holding a brand in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Prof: Tell me about this ad. What is your reaction to it?
No answer from the class.

Prof: He seems very sure of himself, doesn't he? Look at the way he's holding that stick thing. All 'I've got my stick and my cigarette, ha ha!'.
Class laughter, but no response.

Prof: Well, look at the man. Is he gay?
Some guy in the back: Yes.
Class laughter.

Prof: Quite possible, and this is because images of masculinity have changed since this ad was published.
She continues with this for some time before placing the next photograph up. It is of a man and a woman lying head to head on the grass. The man is topless, wearing only jeans, and the woman is wearing his shirt (barely), very strappy underwear and black shoes.

Prof: Tell me about this ad. What's going on here?
Guy in the front: He just banged that girl.
Class laughter.
Prof: How can you tell that?
Guy in the back: She's not wearing her clothes.
Prof: Right, and they both look...satisfied, correct?
Class laughter.
Guy in the front: That guy's a player.
More laughter.

Prof: Now what are they trying to sell?
Girl on the right: It says Guess Footwear...so shoes?
Prof: Right, but what are they actually selling? Sex, right? What is the message sent here?
Girl in front of me: Buy our shoes and get banged by a player?
Class laughter.
Prof: Absolutely. And would you buy those shoes? I bet not. Well maybe you would, but I should hope not!
Class laughter. She dismisses us at this point. A very successful lecture.

Other than that, I've found out that my fourth year lever anthropology class is a seminar, and that there are only 7 of us in the class. There is no exam, and no midterm. It's entirely participation and presentations. It seems to be pretty good so far, although somewhat intimidating.

And now I'm off to pick up my glasses and contacts that have come in. Finally, vision again!

First Day of Class

It feels like it's been forever since I last updated. Let me just say that O-Week was a fantastic success. It was exhausting, yes, but it was one of the best experiences that I have ever had nonetheless. Our goal was to raise $155 555 for Cystic Fibrosis, and we beat it with a wopping $157 000. This means that we have raised the most money during Shinerama than any other university in Canada for 5 years running.

Today was the first day of classes, but I have mondays and fridays off. Instead of class, then, I worked at the on campus Tim Hortons for 7 hours. This will be one long day. Up at 8 for work, and then foot patrol tonight at 10:30 until 2:00 am. Ack. I'll have to have a nap beforehand. I'm already a little groggy and it's only 4:40!

That's about it. Nothing really to report as of yet.

"Bling Bling, CF Ain't No Thang!"

Today was the first day of orientation week boot camp. I spent the day from 8am to 5pm running around from room to room, cheering my head off, and listening to lectures on topics ranging from conduct and policy to Cystic Fibrosis, the cause that we fundraise for every year with Shinerama.

The Cystic Fibrosis lecture was very touching. It was a sequence of clips from an audio diary of a girl who had CF, just describing her daily life and all the things she went through over the course of a year, leading up to her death. To hear her talk about how every day is a struggle to avoid death, and hearing her worry about the lung transplant, and then eventually coming to terms with her death and accepting that she can never take a single day or moment for granted... It was very sobering to say the least. When the audio diary ended there was complete silence in the room. To accomplish this level of silence in a room of 500 people who are normally very energetic and pumped full of energy really shows how much it hit people.

Then the head Shinerama girl asked for a volunteer to come up and witness her signing her donor card so that one day she could possibly save a life. This alone was very touching. Finally she asked one of the other Shinerama members to stand up and introduced her to us. Turns out that she has CF and she wanted to thank us all for coming together to raise money. Everybody gave her a standing ovation and I don't think there was a dry eye in the whole room. I don't think I'd ever been prouder of what we do every year during Shinerama. I'm still kind of teary thinking about it. To think of what this girl has to go through on a daily basis just to live...to think of what all people with CF have to life with...to think that even now the average lifespan is only 37...it just makes me choke up. I know that this Saturday I'm going to shine my *ss of for Shinerama. Our target goal this year is $155 555. It's a lot, but I think we can do it.