Please kill me. Please kill me now.

I've done something to anger god. Severely.
That is the only explanation that I can come up with. Why else would my sister have returned from the Middle East with a sudden new interest in techno music? There is simply no other reason.
9:30 AM, her first day back in the country and she decides to welcome the dawn of a new day by playing techno. This may or may not be worse than the time she had the song Aïcha, by the Arabic Artist Khaled on repeat for four days, non-stop.
Don't get me wrong, there is a time and a place for techno music. It's just that that time is when you are high on Ecstasy and that place is somewhere that is far away from me.

Dealings with a two-month-old

She plopped the baby down in my arms and proceeded to sit beside me on the stairs.
Surprised, my newfound charge and I both stared unblinkingly at each other with a hint of suspicion.

I speak to the baby exactly how I speak to adults, which seems to amuse both his parents and casual onlookers endlessly. In fact, the only difference that immediately comes to mind is that, when addressing the baby, I occasionally drive my points home by tickling his ribs and blowing raspberries on his stomach. To date, I have yet to find myself trying to win an argument with a fully matured individual in a similar fashion.

Later, while in my care, the baby voices his displeasure at suddenly finding himself with a wet diaper. "I understand that you are currently perturbed, but I think you would find your angst would be somewhat abated if you would only stop gouging yourself in the eye," I tell him, as I locate his diaper bag and look around for a flat surface on which to change him. "Equally," I add, "you would find that if you ceased flailing around so excitedly I would be able to change your diaper much more efficiently." The baby ignores my words, choosing instead to smile and coo at me for no apparent reason. "I do not understand you," I state flatly. "I think we will get along much better when we are actually able to converse and I can simply buy you material objects to gain your affections." But the truth is, in spite of the many times when my mere presence seems to offend him, we get along just fine right now. And though I am loath to admit it, my heart melts just a little every time his parents refer to me as "Auntie Megan".

A Sentence or Two

Watching Madonna's new video for her song 4 Minutes, I am inspired to go out to a busy parking lot and do some fancy dancing on top of cars - not to mention locate the nearest giant clock so that I can dance in front of it while wearing a flesh-toned body suit.
04.04.08

My dad woke me up at 2 AM to ask me if I'd ever heard of Talk Like a Pirate Day.
06.04.08

"Wow, really? That's so exciting that my nipple just got hard," I said.
"Nipple? Just one?"
"Yeah, righty. Lefty has much higher standards," I explained, though I felt that this should have been self-evident.
16.04.08

I once made pulled taffy in grade three, and, to tell the truth, making it again is something I have thought about at least once a year ever since.
24.04.08

I never had baby fever before everyone around me, it would seem, started procreating like it was an Olympic sport.
3.05.08

Facebook tells me that several of my friends think I am likely to succeed and would make an excellent mother. However, it also tells me that they are less than confident in my sense of fashion and my thoroughness when it comes to bathing. Thanks, Facebook!
14.05.08

And then I ate a cupcake

When I first saw the giant wooden pole on my front lawn I thought, finally, my parents had decided to help me realize my dream of holding a giant Scottish festival, featuring a caber toss competition, in our backyard.
Alas, my dreams were quickly shattered when I saw several Hydro trucks dropping off similar poles next to all their dilapidated carriers of power along my street.
'So close,' I thought.

Hey there, cupcake.

I made cupcakes this past weekend as part of a fund-raising effort - well, a fund-raising effort in a round about way. I think they turned out pretty well, as did the fruit floral arrangement things that I also made.

I am not high

Okay, that is a lie. I am a little high. Or a lot high. Maybe medium sized high.
My parents went out of town for a funeral this weekend and I decided it was the perfect time to break in my new bong. Also, I tend to clean when I am stoned and I thought, since the house was looking a little dirty, that it may just be the incentive I needed to tackle some housework. Really, if you think about it, I am doing my parents a favour by partaking in recreational drug use. I am being completely selfless; thinking only of others. Sacrificing my own personal well-being for the sake of the family.
About twenty minutes ago, while laying down on my bed, I accidentally stuck my big toe in the top of my bong - which was resting on my floor. About five minutes later I would forget this and proceed to stick my mouth where my toe had just been. I should probably mention that I'd been outside just minutes before, barefoot, trudging through god knows what. On this trip outdoors I encountered a snake. Screaming, I briefly looked behind me to see if the dogs would come to my rescue, which, of course, they would not. When I looked back, the snake was gone. 

I spent the next twenty minutes standing there debating whether or not I had actually seen any snake to begin with. "But marijuana does not make people hallucinate," I tried to reason. When the snake did finally make its reappearance, I pointed and yelled at it. "I knew it! I knew it!" I screamed. "You are real! You do exist!" My screaming was quickly interrupted when the snake started to slither towards me. It was at this point in time that I squealed and ran into the house, tripping up the stairs as I went.

Secrets that aren't so much secrets as I just haven't found a way to work them into a conversation yet

Secret Number One: In middle school, I stayed home sick for an entire week just so that I could watch all of the Planet of the Ape movies that were being shown every day at noon on the Sci-Fi channel. I may not have learned how to do order of operation properly until grade ten, but by god did I develop a fear of a primate revolution.

Secret Number Two: I once, at a house party, fooled around with a guy I had known for five minutes because he had already called shotgun on the fold out couch and I figured that it was the best way to avoid sleeping on the floor.

Secret Number Three: I smoked pot for the first time when I was in grade seven. I am not entirely sure if I actually inhaled.

Secret Number Four: I have never had my legs, armpits, or cha-cha professionally waxed because I have never been sure how long I am supposed to let the hair grow before I go back in for another wax.

Secret Number Five: When I am bored, I brush my teeth.

Secret Number Six: I once wore swimming goggles while performing oral sex on a former sexual partner because the two times before that he'd ejaculated in my left eye.

Secret Number Seven: I am borderline socially retarded. I never quite mastered the art of making friends and generally just feel awkward around new people.

Secret Number Eight: I once stole a pack of cigarettes from the gas station my sister was working at. They were Benson and Hedges and package was all pretty and silver.

Secret Number Nine: In grade twelve I tried to cheat on a math test by burning the formulas to a CD I had made and placing that CD in my disc man while I was writing the test. I still barely managed to pass the test because I just could not bring myself to listen to my illicit audio files.

Secret Number Ten: I didn't actually pass OAC Calculus on my own merit. My official transcripts list my mark as 50%. A teacher later explained to me that a 50% really means that your actual mark was under 50%, but that the teacher felt that you deserved to pass and bumped you up. Considering that I had a calculus tutor and was able to successfully complete any calculus problem I was given so long as I was not in a test-like situation, I agreed that I was deserving of a pity pass.

Wake-up call

I have awoken every day this past week, at 5:30 am, to Lil' Kim telling me of her sexual escapades.
I feel confident in saying that she has led a very full life. In addition to traveling the world and coming into contact with many new people, she has also engaged in sexual intercourse with a variety of ethnic groups. Of course, I am paraphrasing here but I am sure the general impact of her message remains the same.
5:30 am is the time I take my birth control pill and vitamin at, so it seems somewhat fitting (yet highly ironic) this week that I am reminded to do so by a song in which Lil' Kim recalls instances of her own promiscuity.

But he probably wouldn't be quite as inclined to let me drive his sweet car if I puked on his basement floor

On Friday night, I watched Finding Nemo after participating in hours of excessive drinking.
It should have not come as a surprise to me that a movie that takes place almost entirely underwater would cause me to need the bathroom even more than usual while on a bender.
On one of my many bathroom breaks during the movies' 100 minute run time, I actually fell off of the toilet and hit my head on my bathtub - although I would never admit that to anybody but you, interweb.
The next day, so hungover that I was certain death was eminent, I spent an hour at the home of one of my neighbours. We were bonding over saltwater aquariums and he told me wonderful stories that I was unable to give my full attention to because I was too busy contemplating just how offended he might be if I threw-up in the middle of his aquarium room. For a few minutes I was able to forget about my nausea as I watched him feed a tiger shrimp to his lionfish (which seemed slightly ironic at the time).
Having friendly, rich neighbours has resulted in several perks for me: a) a standing offer to test drive a silver Porsche 911, and b) being gifted aquarium equipment that is valued at approximately $500.

Breakfast of Champions... and by Champions I mean Stoners

"Come over to my house. We can do mushrooms," he said.
"Dude," I paused to check the time, "it is not even nine o'clock yet. I am not eating mushrooms before I eat my oatmeal."
"Don't be silly; You can eat the mushrooms with your oatmeal," he declared. "But seriously, come over and we will do mushrooms and watch Across the Universe. I have beer."
Oh yes, beer. Because if my delicate sensibilities are offended by the very thought of partaking in recreational drug use prior to 9 AM, it is highly probable that the idea of consuming alcoholic beverages first thing in the morning is likely to trigger a different response.
"I am not doing mushrooms and drinking again. Do you remember what happened last time?" I asked him. This was a stupid question, of course, because he rarely remembers anything, let alone the things I want him to. I decided not to wait for him to answer, "Everything was wonderful until we started watching that movie and I realized I had finished off the 750 mL bottle of amaretto all by myself, in addition to the mickey of rum. After that, things were not so wonderful anymore."
"Okay, so no drinking and no mushrooms before noon. Come over; I will make you an omelet."
His downfall is that I know him too well.
"First of all," I told him, "I would never eat anything you cooked because I am not even sure that you know what a kitchen is. And second of all, you are not tricking me into eating an omelet that is made with magic mushrooms. It's just not going to happen. They don't even taste like regular mushrooms and, on top of that, I don't think you are clever enough to rehydrate the mushrooms so that I there is not a noticeable difference in texture."
"Wait, what does rehydrate mean?"
"You just proved my point."

Draft(s)

Late at night we whisper back and forth over the phone.
Each conversation is essentially the same; we vie for the title of the bigger loser.
"I have not had sex in over a year," he tells me.
"That is okay though," I reassure him, "because you are just being picky. That is actually a trait that women find attractive; not having sex just for the sake of having sex. If I did not know you as well as I do, and you had not previously been involved in a sexual relationship with one of my best friends, I would totally hit that."
"That is one of the nicest things you've ever said to me," he sighs dreamily.
- 05/03/08

My friends constantly try to show me their breasts. It's true; ask Nina, she will tell you.
I cannot say for certain why it is that they have this urge, but I suspect it is made all the more enticing by the fact that I do not want them to show me their breasts. Call me old fashioned, but I generally find that seeing my own naked breasts more than fills my breast viewing quota for the day.
- 07/03/08

It took me some time to realize that you were not the person I remembered you being. In our time apart, you had changed, grown. It was to be expected, really. I would not deny you personal growth simply because that meant the memory I carry of you is no longer an accurate picture of the person you are today.
Regardless, this revelation resulted in disappointment. We no longer shared the same shorthand we once did. I found myself refraining from making jokes; worried you would misinterpret, fail to take them in with the spirit with which they were intended. This turned out to be a justified fear. When an oafish comment finally did make its way past my lips, you looked nothing less than offended.
Did you really doubt me that much? It hurt to realize that you did, but, again, I suppose that was to be expected.
I wonder if you see similar changes in me. Am I the same person you remember? With the exception of a few additional neurotic behaviours, I have always thought myself to be a person of very little change. I still believe in the same things I believed in ten years ago. I still love the same people I loved ten years ago. It is true that many people have entered and exited my life in the past several years, but my feelings for each and every one of them remain the same. Then again, I suppose it is hard to see evolution when you are exposed to it every day, especially when that evolution is your own.
I know that I am more withdrawn than I once was, but I believe that, at heart, I have always been and will always remain to be the same person.
- 17/03/08

"Your teeth are very clean," my orthodontist told me, as if this should come as some sort of surprise to me; as if I am not the one who has been brushing said teeth several times a day, every day for nearly a quarter of a century. As it turns out, I happen to be the primary brusher of my own teeth.
I sat in the reclined chair, bright light shining in my face, wondering who it was that brushed my orthodontist's teeth.
- 23/03/08

Because he is so small, I will forget that he ruined my plans for cake

The first thing I noticed was that he had a wrinkly head, probably, at least in part, due to the way his father was carrying him around like a seven pound football.
I had intended to take a plethora of photographs of him, but found myself too concerned about the potential distress my flash could cause him.
"He's been flashed plenty of times already," his mother told me, and I laughed because I am dirty like that.

Forays into Saltwater

It was probably a mistake to show the fish to the cat, but I am hoping he will eventually lose interest in them.

Long story short, I eventually conceded her point

When I first bought my new fish I was fairly intent on naming one of them Fish Stick.
"No," my mother told me.
"Why not? They are my fish," I whined, "I should be able to name them whatever I please."
"I will tell you why not," my mother replied, "you do not enunciate enough and it sounds like you are saying Fish Dick."
"Why would I name a fish Fish Dick? That just sounds silly."
"Exactly," my mother said.

"Give me your hotdog, old man."

The dog enjoyed our trip to the farm. He ran through the snow covered fields and followed rabbit tracks through the woods. He even found time to practice his telepathy on my grandfather; staring patiently for hours, silently willing him to drop his food.