popo shut us down

Today began in just about the exact same manner in which every other Monday of this academic year has: my phone and alarm clock simultaneously begin to make their loud noises which I have become conditioned to associate with pain and annoyance, and I seriously consider not going to my first class.

After hitting snooze on both devices about 3 times, and realizing that I'm probably not going to win the fight to stay asleep, I somehow remember that GenEd is by far my easiest class and isn't really worth skipping.

I then somehow descended my dangerously shaky ladder, and more or less start my day. I managed to stay awake all through GenEd, and I was even coherent until about 10 minutes after at which point I was out cold until 12:50 rolled around, and the process repeated itself for math.

After math I kind of slept from 3-7:30.

Well, I guess I know what I'm not doing tonight.

On the upside, I just completed my 5-7 page paper for my english class. Its the last actual paper for the class, and so I'm relatively pumped that it is finally out of the way.


There seemed to be some sort of theme for Canadians today.

My math teacher, who is originally from some country I can't pronounce in the Middle East, harbors an extremely strong, slightly stereotypical Indian accent. This kind of makes a lot of the things he says far more entertaining than they where originally intended, if at all.

Case in point: he is doing a math problem on the chalk board, being completely serious as usual. Suddenly, halfway through calculating some ridiculous problem, he looks up, smiles, and announces "Mmmmm.... This problem reminds me of Canada." I kind of lost it.

The next example comes from my dear mother.



The first few parts are irrelevant, we were discussing the jelly you can buy in squeezable tubes.

Which brings me to my next topic: peanut butter.

First off, I kind of hate peanut butter companies. Why, WHY do you package your product in a container that is far more lean than wide? Once you get about halfway through, it is damn near impossible to scoop out the stuff from the bottom. Why don't they make it into some kind of short square thing? Arg. Srsly.

Anyhoo, in my household, if one left any minuscule amount of peanut butter on a knife, not only would my mother indefinitely find it and trace it back to you, she would go on to explain that she could easily have made five sandwiches with the stuff you wasted. Moving on, if you were ever to dispose of a peanut butter container with peanut butter still inside... You might as well have stolen some poor starving African child's food for the next year.

Now, my parents by no means had too many ridiculous rules or constraints or whatevs. At the same time, they didn't exactly let me run wild. With that in mind, let me tell you how good it feels to waste that last bit of peanut butter without my mother descending from the ceiling to tell me off.

Btw, I had one hell of an interesting weekend. For all you Tri kids reading this, I'll recap that to you in person... in 4 days when in home. Hailllllllllllllllll yes.

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