Foot in my mouth disease.

Okay. So.

As part of my ongoing efforts to improve the quality of all that exists around me, I've registered for the 2007 CN Tower Climb for the World Wildlife Fund - all proceeds going to the fight against (dun dun dunnn) GLOBAL WARMING!

I sent my dad an e-mail from my WWF account asking for a pledge and if he could get me in touch with relatives on whom I could push my agenda. Part of the message tactfully read:

If you could do me a favour and hook me up with the e-mails of people who might like to sponsor me (ie. Kara, Aunt Evelyn, Uncle Jeff the SUV lover... and Uncle Martin who practically HAS to sponsor me, he's the Tree Guy after all :-) and anyone else you can think of) that would be superb!

And so, naturally, he forwarded my plea to the aforementioned hit list. I really should have seen this one coming.

Fantastic!

Well, I'm sure they'll find it in their hearts to forgive (read: sponsor) me. I am family, after all. ...It's just not exactly the proposition I had in mind.

Less than Impressed

So today's general attitude towards life in Res is "Less than Impressed", with particular regards to the janitorial staff and whichever one of my housemates decided to poop on the floor last Friday.
It's silly, I know. Even if you're shitfaced beyond comprehension, there's no excuse to drop your little present RIGHT IN FRONT of the toilet, unless you've got the norwalk virus and it's coming out both ends, and even THEN, there's a perfectly good garbage pail directly outside of the stall which may be utilized in such an unpleasant circumstance.
And then don't put a bag on top of it. The poop's still there.

*sigh*

So that was Friday night. Today is Tuesday morning, and though the bag has been removed, the poop is still VERY MUCH on the floor!! (Not to mention the crusty puke on the toilet seat in stall number two.)
Is our janitor on strike? Vacation? I mean, I know if I were them I sure as hell wouldn't be keen on mopping up after some drunken first year University students. But that thought alone brings two problems to mind:
Problem One - thus far (Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday) there has been no evidence of mopping activity whatsoever. None. Nada. It's been four days! THE SYSTEM HAS FAILED!!
Problem Two - had they gone to University they'd know better than to clean one for a living. (Which is mean, I know. But I am LESS THAN IMPRESSED here!)

So. Basically. This is how it goes. Somebody craps on the floor, and the rest of us just have to accept it as part of our lives for a week.

I am less than impressed.

Confessions of a Laundry Sniffer

I've just become the honorary recipient of a Very Strange Look. It was sort of a mix between a "just smile and nod at the crazy person" and a "her simpleness amuses me, however, it would be mean to outright laugh so I shall try and refrain".

You see, upon waking up this morning to find that the population of clean socks in my dresser drawer had all but become extinct, I came to the conclusion that today would probably be a good day to do laundry, lest I should resort to wearing dirty smelly stinky socks. Which would lead to dirty smelly stinky feet. Which society deems as undesirable.
And to avoid being cast out like a leper on charges of dirtysmellystinkyfeet, it was time to take action!
However, upon my arrival at the Ottonabee College laundry facilities at approximately 3:00 in the afternoon, I inferred by the lack of available washing machines that I was not the only student experiencing the sock-shortage phenomenon. My situation improved after just a short interval in which I committed a Grand Theft Fabric Softener Sheet from an unsecured box of Downy. (What? You don't just leave those babies laying around!) A studious young lad came and made the washer-dryer transition, and I was all set! ...For now.

38 minutes later. I arrive back at the laundry facility hoping to make the washer-dryer transition myself, only to find that the sock-shortage phenomenon showed no signs of subsiding. Eight little dryers were tumbling merrily, full of other people's clothes. Except for one, on which some guy was happily sorting, pairing, folding, admiring, caressing his nicely crisp, clean, dry clothes. As mine were becoming wrinkled in the washer.
Patiently I waited, as he took his time sorting, pairing, folding, admiring, and caressing. Growing restless, I noticed that several jugs of Tide had been left behind by their owners as they waited for their clothes to dry, and I noticed that each of the aforementioned jugs of Tide all had different colour-coded lids. I was curious. And so, I did the only thing that a curious person could do in this situation - I took the lids off of all the Tide jugs, smelling each one in turn. I had just discovered an insanely floral one that I didn't particularily enjoy, and turned around to make a face at my friend Sarah to get the point across, when I noticed that the laundry folder had ceased to fold and was now watching me.
"Um. You can use some if you want," he said. Generous fellow.
"Oh. No thanks, I'm just waiting for a dryer," I replied sweetly, and matter-of-factly "and, I just decided I'd smell the laundry detergent while I passed the time."
It was then that I was bestowed with a Very Strange Look.

Going over the situation, I can't say I really blame the guy. Because I must of seemed a little bit silly.