Deep thoughts by me

IT'S TIME FOR ACTUAL USEFUL EDUCATION!!!

(written by yours truly, The Best Teacher You Will Ever Have)

Today's lesson consists of the following lessons:

1. If you don't floss, you are missing 1/3rd of the tooth surface. SO FLOSS.
2. Barley in soup is the greatest cure for a sick day.
3. Lesbians can facebook message like it's the end of the world. I can't keep up with them when they do this, as I read very slowly. 

And that is all. As you can very well tell, I am not the most proficient learner. At the rate I am going, I'll be eighty before I can have a semi-intellectual conversation with somebody about flossing and lesbians.

In the meantime, enjoy this picture of goalkeeper Erin McLeod and striker Melissa Tancredi getting excited at the prospect of a hockey rink. The possibilities when it comes to a block of ice, people. The possibilities are endless. 

Never doubt that a small patch of frozen water can change the world. 

Indeed, it is the only thing that has.

Not all those who wander are lost

I'm going to dedicate this post to a person of utterly no significance to me. Why? I guess because sometimes, it's nice to acknowledge the people in your life who were nothing but a passing moment, a blip in the short timeline that is your history on this Earth.

I knew him as Fed-Ex when I first met him. I got acquainted with him and his friends Farmer and Caper when I was in Florence, Italy nearly four years ago. He was somewhat of a legend due to the trials and tribulations he had to face to get his ass out of Canada in the first place. It was a miracle he managed to make it to Florence in the time that he did. We were all Canadians staying at a hostel in the city's suburbs - a typical Renaissance type building with wide staircases and white statues. Us Canadians naturally migrate towards one another when we're overseas, mostly for the sake of exchanging Canadianisms, reminiscing about Tim Hortons/hockey and getting wasted while doing so. Most of my time in Florence was spent admiring architecture and art during the day and getting piss drunk at night. I briefly remember a game of hide-and-go-seek in the dark and a conversation over wine about suicidal animals.

Anyway, today is Fed-Ex's birthday. I haven't seen him in four years and I probably will never see him again for the duration of my life, but him and his friends were probably one of the better wine buddies I've had. They were the first Canadians I met while backpacking through Europe, and let's be honest, you never really forget your first Canadians.

So here's to you, Fed-Ex. The likelihood of you reading this and recognizing the person as yourself are slimmer than me becoming pope someday, but I wish you the safest of travels in the future. I hope that none of those adventures involve you getting deported/lost/trapped in airports. Although, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they did. Lao Tzu would certainly have approved of it.

Happy birthday from this fellow travelling Canadian. 

Whoa I is back

Hello invisible people!

How goes it? I know it's been like forever since I posted something on this online diary of mine. I just recently completed my busiest semester at school, which is why I have been AWOL for the last quarter of 2012. Not that you would care. However, now it's all over and I have no life so I can go back to writing about the fact that I have no life. Again, not that you would care.

This is all actually quite exciting.

I got my hair cut today, something that was very much needed after a long winter of bear hibernation. Not the gay bear type. The actual bear type. 

Is it June yet?

There is something about haircuts that is just so satisfying. It's the same kind of satisfaction I get when I take out the garbage, see Roberto Luongo stop a puck, or when I smack a douchebag particularly hard in the face. You can let out your anger, your frustration and your hatred of the world in a single haircut. Every time those pairs of scissors hack at your luscious mane, it's like you're cutting off all the memories attached to that particular hairstyle. That one time you got denied by that girl while having that hair, or that one time your hair witnessed a particularly gruesome accident involving a Toyota and a jay-walking squirrel -- all of that can be let go. All the hopelessness you feel every time you see another sexist PETA ad, another episode of Glee, another Boston Bruin fan throwing a hot dog across the ice, all of it is lifted off. And all of a sudden, those little things no longer bother you, because after all is said and done, you're going to look mad fly with your new hair. You can be sad one day, get a haircut, and be perfectly normal again. Although, if your haircut is ugly or your stylist fucked up your bangs, you'd probably still be sad.

Unless you're this guy. Who apparently never wants to get laid.

Whatever though, at least he's proud of it. Life is like a box of chocolates hairstyle, guys. As shitty as it may look one moment, it will grow out, it will be fixed, and you can move on and rock out the next great look.

This is going to be a quick post because I'm still learning how to write again and I am also slightly illiterate after all the months I spent this past winter thinking about absolutely nothing. Which, my fellow humans, does not do one much good, I just realized. Who woulda thought?

Lone Star State

Hello folks,

In about a week's time, I will be in Texas.

Yes, the second biggest state in the US, where the cattle are near equal in numbers to the people, and where you can purchase those car battery sized fountain drinks.

Yum yum.

I feel like I should be looking forward to this. I mean, I've always wanted to explore more of the United States. I've only ever really been to Washington, Oregon, California and New York - which is barely real America (and I mean real in the best way). This is my opportunity to soak in new culture, to experience and meet new people, to enjoy the sun and heat and everything that a summer climate should be.

I had the fortune of hanging out with an American friend of mine the other day though, and you know how that goes down.

Americans tend to be more anti-American than any other people in the world.

When she first found out I was going to Texas, she was like, "Ew....why?"

I had the misfortune of reading her expression in the worst way possible and I responded with another question: "Will I die there?"

Her unfortunate answer was "Yes."

And because we are disturbed people, we went on to reflect on the ways in which I will die when I go down to Texas. The list is as follows:

STUFF WES IS IN DANGER OF DYING FROM WHEN SHE GOES TO TEXAS:

1. Conservatives.
2. West Nile Virus.
3. Red necks.
4. Republicans.
5. Heart disease.
6. Diabetes.
7. Homophobes. 
9. Heat exhaustion and/or thirst.
10. Guns.

I hear this and I go:

I feel like the only thing missing from this list is zombies and the Black Plague. I knew there was a silver lining in there somewhere!

Oh well, you can't really live until you put yourself at risk once in awhile, right?

.....right?

Which is why I'm packing like this.

Along with some other things in case of supernatural occurrences:

And wearing this:

As well as Nutella, because it is the food of champions and hardcore survivors:

I think I'm good now.

My American Cousin

I'm going to start a series called "My American Cousin."

You know, after that flawless movie from the 1980s by Sandy Wilson.

Although I'm taking some liberties. As in, a lot of liberties. As in, I'm only really stealing the title because I like it, and my real American cousin isn't some hot blond guy in a tank top driving a red car that every Canadian girl dreams of having sex in.

My cousin is American. But yeah, the similarities between her and the movie end there.

I have very interesting conversations with my American Cousin. Most of them revolve around boys. Because she likes boys and I clearly like boys and that's about the only thing we have in common. Most of the time, our conversations end with me falling asleep because to be honest, I can only talk about boys for so long. Unless we're talking Vancouver Canucks hockey. I can talk about those particular boys forever.

My American Cousin though, she can pretty much talk her head off when it comes to men. I honestly do not know how she does it. She seems to find them perpetually interesting, and I can't keep up with her. So I figured I would record some of our conversations here, just to entertain you with my complete inability to talk about love, relationships and people in a positive manner (I am not cynical, I swear).

For example, my dear American Cousin told me today about a love at first sight moment that she experienced. She calls it providence. The man was handsome, athletic, sweet and most importantly, not a wuss. He is perfect, she says. He is perfect.

And this is what's going on in my mind the entire time.

I ONCE EXPERIENCED PROVIDENCE.

I ONCE EXPERIENCED PERFECT.

IT BIT ME IN THE ASS AND NEVER LOOKED BACK.

BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS?

PRETTIER GIRLS HAPPEN.

PRETTIER GIRLS GET IN THE WAY AND RUIN EVERYTHING.

AND YOU'RE LEFT FOREVER ALONE, BECAUSE THAT PERSON CHOSE HER INSTEAD.

Of course, I'm hoping that my American Cousin doesn't actually experience or feel any of this. In all essence, my American Cousin is very attractive, and in this kind of situation, she would be the prettier girl. Then while she raves about this amazing dude, my mind is going in a million different directions, and it looks a little like this:

LOVE CONQUERS ALL, THEY SAID.

LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL, THEY SAID.

NOBODY EVER SAID THAT IT WOULD ALL END WITH A SAD RENDITION OF JOSEPH ARTHUR'S "HONEY AND THE MOON."

NO ONE EVER SAID THAT.

You see what I mean about me being a pathetic, angry piece of shit? Good Lord, I don't know why I still have friends sometimes. I think it's because I mask my negativity very well. Like, I can be Tigger up front but I'm really Eeyore at heart. My poor American Cousin, she thinks that we're on the same page, when really, I'm taking everything she's experiencing (which is very positive and amazing) and applying it to my own shitty life. I'm like this guy.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this first edition of "My American Cousin," in which I talk about the positive conversations I have with my cousin that turn sour in my head because I am a depressed little robot.

I'm hoping though, that some of her providence will rub off on me. That one day maybe, just maybe, the way I feel on the inside matches the way I look on the outside.

Whatever, je m'en crisse

So I discovered something kind of cool about myself today.


Not that I'm not always cool. Because I am.

I don't know if any of you other people do this and can relate, but today, I discovered that when I'm speaking in French, I tend to act like a total JACKASS.


And not just basic jackass. More like up in your face, spitting out words, insulting anglophones type JACKASS.


I don't know where this sudden jerk douchebag attitude came from, but when I start going in French, I sometimes find myself acting and talking like fucking Jean-Claude Van Damme circa Timecop.


WHICH IS FUCKING AWESOME.


It's like I've got a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on which I never knew I had. Like, underneath my nice, kind, soft exterior, I'm actually a totally repulsive person....when I'm speaking the language of love and Catholicism.


Now excuse me while I beat someone up with this baguette.

Zoo Boo Ma Foo

Hi.

This is just a post to say I love you.

What it is and where it stops nobody knows

That moment when you go see a local play in the city and spend the entire time staring at the girl sitting next to you.


Who's an awkward turtle?


This guy.

Closets and coats and Narnia

OMG somebody over on Autostraddle is claiming that a certain local someone whom I love way more than I should is actually a big ole queer.


I will not name them on here in case they're not officially out, but...


PLEASE, PLEASE LET THIS BE TRUE. IF SO, GOD EXISTS AND NO ATHEIST CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

Those proud Americans

So it's pride month in the US of A. My facebook dash is exploding with pictures of people getting things pierced and getting tattoos done and licking things and drinking in the sun and making out with pretty much anything they can get their hands on.


I must say, I am a tad bit jealous.


Today, I nearly got attacked by four dogs in an alley. 


I walked the other way, scared like a shitless boss.


Yep, that's it.

An observation

Just when you thought a person was so attractive that they couldn't get any more attractive....you see them hold a cute animal. 


THEN EVERYTHING CHANGES.

The day I disappeared

I was having coffee with a couple friends on Friday and my friend was telling us an interesting story. It went something like this:


FRIEND 1: I knew a girl whose landlords set really bizarre restrictions on her place.
FRIEND 2: Restrictions? Like what kinds?
FRIEND 1: Well, if she was going to take the place, she had to agree to never have any male friends over.
ME: Why is that?
FRIEND 1: I have no idea. It's strange, right?
ME: Why specifically male friends?
FRIEND 1: I'm guessing it was like, an intimacy issue or something? The landlords who owned the house were a gay couple. Maybe they were just protective?
FRIEND 2: Like they didn't want her having sex in their house?
FRIEND 1: Yeah, maybe. I honestly don't know.
ME: That is really strange. But women are allowed over?
FRIEND 2: Yeah.
ME: Why would it even be an issue for them? It's her space.
FRIEND 2: I don't know. Maybe they don't want to hear it because their walls are thin.
ME: Are they uber Christian or something? No sex before marriage type stuff?
FRIEND 2: They're gay.
ME: Yeah, I know. But are they religious?
FRIEND 2: But they're gay though.
ME: Yeah, but you know how some conservative, traditional, religious people are really strict about....
FRIEND 1 + FRIEND 2: No, they're not. They're gay.

There was an awkward pause. In my head, I was going DO I NOT EXIST ALL OF A SUDDEN OR SOMETHING.


So, long story short, moral of the story is: To be gay/queer and to be religious/spiritual/a person of faith - THIS IS NOT A PARADOX. Identifying oneself with a certain religion does not necessarily make one a conservative. Identifying oneself with a certain religion does not necessarily make one traditional. Identifying oneself with a certain religion CERTAINLY DOES NOT MAKE ONE STRAIGHT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I know that there are certain people and characteristics we associate with religion (such as political conservatism and strong ties to customs), but these are still blanket notions and stereotypes that don't actually apply to all of us. You could say that I am misunderstanding the definition of religion, that religion is synonymous with conservatism and tradition. But really, I see someone's religion as such a personal experience that I don't think anyone else should have to define it for you.


Your God(s) is/are your God(s), you shouldn't have to be all these specific things in order to believe in your God(s). Belief is separate from all these other notions of religion, you see. Belief in a god/gods does not necessarily have to make you an asshole (even though we have often been associated with these kinds of people). At the same time, being conservative and being traditional does not necessarily make you an asshole. Being an asshole makes you an asshole. I know many open-minded people who are assholes, and I know many close-minded people who are assholes. I also know a lot of good people.


No. Just because I'm Christian does not mean I vote for Stephen Harper. Nor do I take Bill O'Reilly seriously and wear sweater vests like Rick Santorum and have a picture of Kirk Cameron on my bedroom wall.


I listen to the radio and I read banned books and I watch NC-17 movies and I curse like a sailor (only sometimes) and I am semi-familiar with Wittgenstein's philosophies. I also believe in Darwin's theory of evolution.


SHOCKER, right? Then again, who said that all Christians fit in the same box? The same people who said that all people fit in the same box. 


I know that many will be ashamed of what I have written in this post, and for that, I am sorry. This is just my perspective on such issues. You will probably think I am totally wrong, and that is a valid opinion. I just don't like being judged based on stereotype and expectation. I'm constantly worried that because I don't fit a mould of a certain doctrine, that I'm just a faker who doesn't actually belong to that doctrine. These are issues that I get anxious about. I'm also worried that associating myself with a certain doctrine with its dark histories would somehow prove the fact that I'm anti-humanist. What I want to get at here is that religion is a human interpretation. But who can say that this interpretation doesn't come from a source that is very real and very present? No one can. You can believe or you can not believe, but either way, we still lose. Our human bodies are Plato's cave, essentially. No matter how much knowledge we grasp, we are still limited to the senses allotted to us by our physical beings. Our physical beings give us religion, they give us science. I am also one of those who doesn't see why science somehow has to trump religion or that religion has to somehow trump science. I never saw them as the same thing. They tell certain truths, yes, but different truths. They are a part of human history and development, and even if you don't believe in one or the other, there is still value in learning both. Why? So we can understand and re-interpret and adapt and develop our arguments and be critical thinkers.

I totally didn't mean to go all philosophical on you there. I just never thought I'd be witness to Queer Christian Erasure but yeah, that's apparently a thing, and I'm glad my friends made me aware of that.

I wasn't angry at them or anything though, I just thought it was interesting the way they processed that part of the conversation. It's strange because queer Christians get crap from both sides: you've got some Christians telling you that you shouldn't be queer because you are Christian, then you've got some non-Christians telling you that you shouldn't be Christian because you are queer. Whatevs, I do what I want. 

Dear Mr. Earl Grey

Nothing like a good cup of tea to help you process your infinite thoughts on life, the universe and everything.

I'm a loser, I know. For now, for now.

FUCK YES I LOVE GETTING FUCKING MESSAGES.


Especially from You-Know-Who.


Not Voldemort.

One of the six impossible things I believe in is her. It's pathetic, isn't it? DAMN YOU, LEWIS CARROLL, DAMN YOU. I tell myself all the time that my upbringing has squashed all of the optimism out of my body. But that just isn't true. 


I am still optimistic, and sometimes, it's this very thing about me that makes me miserable.


BUT MAN, FUCK, THE MESSAGE WAS SO FUCKING CUTE I JUST CAN'T OMG.

Truth Dare Double Dare Promise To Repeat

I've done my share of judging people and embarrassing them on this blog, so I figured it's about time I made myself vulnerable to judgment and embarrassment for the sake of everyone else's entertainment. Because sometimes, in order to make friends, you gotta crash and burn for their amusement. Yes.

No matter how evolved we are as a species, we all do stupid things at one point or another, right?

^This isn't me by the way. I'm slightly more attractive. And I know how to spell "extreme."


I was gonna turn this into a video blog post, just because this works better as a video, but I'm not that brave today, so it's just gonna be a list for now. I'll storyboard it sometime in the near future when I get enough friends to cast in the video so I don't have to be in it myself. But for now, here's the script:

Shit Closeted Queer Girls Say About Girls They Are Mildly In Love With

(a true confession sadly based on several true events)

1. I like that she likes Harry Potter. I also like her.

2. God, she smells good. How is it that girls smell so good?

3. Is she checking out my clothes or is she checking out me?

4. How awkward is this right now? I CAN'T SCALE IT.

5. Where is all the alcohol? I'M SO SOBER I COULD RECITE THE FIRST FIFTY DIGITS OF PI. AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW THE FIRST FIFTY DIGITS OF PI.

6. Where is my cell phone? I NEED TO PRETEND THAT I'M BUSY DOING IMPORTANT SHIT.

7. Where are all my friends? DO I HAVE ANY FRIENDS, HOLY SHIT I DON'T REMEMBER.
8. SHE'S SITTING BESIDE ME. I'll never sit beside another person the same way again.

9. Should I play hard to get? How hard do I play to get? #decisions.

10. I'm gonna lean coolly against this tree. It worked for James Dean, didn't it? (Editor's Note: I don't know where the hell Wes came up with the idea that James Dean leaned on a tree at some point in his film career).
11. Why is she making out with whatshername? Why why why??!!

12. She should be making out with me.

13. Only if she wants to. 

14. All I want to do is eat mint chocolate ice cream and drink cheap beer and listen to Linkin Park circa 1999......this must be what jealousy feels like. 

15. I need to walk away.

16. I wrote my FB status with her in mind. OH MY GOD THIS IS GETTING STUPID.

17. OMG SHE LIKED MY FACEBOOK STATUS ZOOOMMMGGG THANK YOU MARK ZUCKERBERG.

18. Does liking my Facebook status constitute liking me?

19. Judy Blume, tell me what is going on.

20. Does she know?

21. I can't look at her anymore.

22. I need to look at her.

23. Every Carly Rae Jepsen song reminds me of her. And I don't even like Carly Rae Jepsen.

24. I'VE GOT MAIL.
25. SHE WROTE ME. THIS IS THE FIRST LETTER OF THE REST OF MY LIFE.

26. I would do the long-distance thing, to fuck with proximity. The Little Prince worked it out with the moon, didn't he? (Editor's note: This isn't correct. Wes has an atrocious memory of the plotline of The Little Prince. Nowhere in there does le petit prince have an affair with the fucking moon).

27. No, this isn't realistic. 

28. She has feelings, I have feelings. Why can't we just have feelings TOGETHER??!!

29. I IS KIND. I IS SMART. I IS IMPORTANT.

30. I hope that one day she realizes I was meant for her.


I'd like to say that I'm older now and I've learned from my youth and stuff like this no longer happens to me anymore.


But that's a flat out lie. We never really grow out of our ignorance, I don't think. There's always an unreasonable voice inside of us, prompting us to do things like set our hair on fire, jump off a cliff into shallow waters, or ride a skateboard on another skateboard on a treadmill. We fall for people we probably shouldn't be falling for. We do things for others that are completely out of character, that are completely absurd.


And maybe Albert Camus was right. We live in a world of absurdity. We breathe. We do stupid things. We die. Everything is temporary. You're temporary, this life is temporary, these feelings are temporary, all those people you want to hold hands with, they're all temporary. We're all Sisyphus, rolling that boulder of hope up a mountain, only to watch that boulder of hope come crashing down. Over and over again, it happens. Yet over and over again, we do it. We keep pushing that boulder up. Why? Not because we believe in love and we believe in happy endings and shitty Nicholas Sparks crap, but because we can't help ourselves. We're slaves to our desires for acceptance. We want to belong, we want to be needed, we want to smile at someone and have them smile back. 


When it comes to stuff like that, we throw logic out the window, we become nothing but what we feel. For me, this is one of the worst traps I fall into. I hate it when it happens because I am very much aware of it, yet I let it happen anyway. It's this uncontrollable thing, where your very being ignores your mind and acts like all the years of education, all the years of learning civility, all the years of gaining common sense and developing critical thinking, none of it matters anymore. What makes it so scary though is the fact that losing yourself turns out to be one of the best feelings in the world. What does that tell me about myself? I don't know and I'm not sure I want to know.


Anyway, I'm absurd you're absurd we're all absurd. Thanks for reading about my embarrassing antics. Have a lovely Victoria Day weekend.

Freud was right

I think I am suffering from a case of gay camp nostalgia syndrome.


I was messaging my cousin from Dallas and she writes back trying to convince me to come visit her, by promising to find me "a nice cowboy to marry" as well as to wingman for her on her quest to marry her "professional baseball player crush."


Only I read "professional baseball player crush" as "professional butch lesbian crush."


I had to re-read her message a million times to see the proper words. 


What is wrong with me oh my god.


I guess that's just what happens when you spend a weekend with 200 people that you're convinced are your soulmates.


For serious, I would have turned polyamorous for ALL OF THEM. 


And I don't say that about anyone. 


Except for maybe Eva Green and Jeremy Renner, the only 2 people on the planet I have ever seriously considered going poly for. 


But seeing as them ever getting together is quite unlikely and me ever coming across them even more unlikely, and them wanting to sleep with me extremely highly unlikely (you see where I'm going here, 3 levels of unlikelihood is basically synonymous with impossibility) - then really, when you think about it, polyamory is totally off my radar floating in the realm of never going to happen.


Except for all those camp folk. For them, I'd throw all my other preferences out the fucking bulletproof glass window.


I start school tomorrow. I really hope that I don't start reading my textbooks the way I read my cousin's Facebook message. 


This is how you fail class - by falling in love with too many people in too little time. My advice? DON'T DO IT.

Let's be literate

Hello, morons.

Today's word of the day is:


GRANOLA (n., adj. - not the breakfast food): a hippie or a person who lives an organic or environmentally conscious lifestyle, characterized by practices such as growing their own food, making their own clothes, creating their own art, raising their own animals, doing their own drugs, etc.

Example:


ME (after waking up for school): I want to go back to sleep.
MOM: Well, it's Monday morning.
ME: So?
MOM: Get the fuck to school.
ME: Ok, ok, let me just make my granola. WHERE'S THE FUCKING MILK??


Shit, that's wrong.


Ok, another example:


ME: Man, I'm starved.
STRANGER: I have a bit of my lunch left. Would you like some?
ME: No, don't worry about it. I'll pick something up on the way home.
STRANGER: Here, I've got a granola bar. Go ahead, take it.
ME: Gee, mister, thanks!!!

Shit, I have to practice this particular one a little more. Either that, or I'm just really hungry. Anyway, you get the idea. 

You can thank my friends for this word of the day. They used this word to describe the faculty associate of one of the modules in our department, and how they simply could not stand the idea of being in her module because she is such a 'granola.' I honestly do not know how someone being a granola could affect the way they teach you, but whatever.


I tried to act disinterested and nonchalant, because to tell the truth, I have the biggest crush on her (none of my said friends know this). I don't normally find teachers or professors attractive, but when I first saw her, holy shit, I dropped my books and in my head ran the words THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER, THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER, THAT IS NOT A FUCKING TEACHER.


I was really tempted to switch modules and join all the other granolas, even though I myself am not a granola. I didn't care - I would shear sheep, raise chickens, eat raw snowpeas, drink hemp milk and become an anarchist for her. 


Unfortunately, it would take more than the desire to shear sheep to get into her module. It would take making the application deadline on time, and seeing as semester had already started, I was about 4 months late. Also, she is a professor in her late forties/early fifties, so even if I did get into her module, it wouldn't change the fact that I am a student 30 years younger than she is.


It probably wasn't meant to be, oh well.


I know this is going to sound cheesy, but sometimes, she walks into our classroom and it's the highlight of my day.

What the shit.

So I've been slaving away at my computer today, doing the final assignment for this semester. I've literally been sitting here for like 6 hours, and my friend Jaymes calls me and this is how our conversation goes:


JAYMES: Hi. I had 19 hours of sleep yesterday.
ME: What?
JAYMES: Yeah, from like 2pm to 9am.
ME: That's like technically two normal wake days filled with sleep.
JAYMES: Yeah.
ME: Do you feel ok? Headaches?
JAYMES: Nope.
ME: Fuck you.
JAYMES: Yeah, I feel great.
ME: Have you started your final assignment yet?
JAYMES: Nope, I'm gonna start in a couple hours.
ME: Really? Wow, how long is it going to take you to finish?
JAYMES: About 15 minutes.
ME: Fuck you.


I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I'VE BEEN SITTING HERE ALL DAY TRYING TO FINISH THIS SHIT AND HE SAYS HE'LL DO IT IN 15 MINUTES??!!!


Jaymes is clearly living his life to the fullest. I am living life in front of a computer, letting schoolwork take over all my time when I could be doing it in 15 minutes.


Now I know how he's able to get laid on a regular basis. He actually gives himself ample time for it.


Fuck you, dude. Fuck you.