day whitaout pen

No, the title of this post is not proof that I am a) drunk, b) finally taking a stand against the proof-reading police or c) giving up on the English language entirely. Apparently, "day whitaout pen" is one of the key searchterms people use to find my blog (and thanks to this post, the next time you're doing a google search for a day whitaout pen, my blog is twice as likely to pop up. You're welcome.).

I hadn't checked up on my blogging stats in a while, and I was delighted to find that my top search keywords now include:

-cat is hacking and breathe smells like fish
-is moral bankruptcy something you need to file for
-crumb genitalia
and, most importantly,
-natalie pollock's boobs.

"disturbing post" was also in there, but that's to be expected.

Spinsterhood: the nature vs nurture debate

I think my brother moved out on Friday. One can never be sure of these things; he could just be on an extended sleepover/roadtrip/crime spree with his friends. He didn't exactly say goodbye to me; the only indication that he had possibly moved out was a facebook status update detailing the list of items he was packing (throwing knives, bowie knives, halbards, machetes, video games, no clothes).

Then his tricorner hat mysteriously disappeared from its place on the hallway nule post, which is always a good indication that he's vacated the premises, at least temporarily.

My Neighbourhood Drug War and the danger of West End streets

A little bit ago, one of the more notorious houses on my street had a bit of a drive-by shooting. Just a bit of one, mind you; no one died, and my motto has always been "I'm not worried unless death is involved," so when a news crew showed up on my doorstep and wanted to talk to me about violence in the West End I responded with nonchalance bordering on naivety.

I maintained that I had lived in the area for about 18 years and I had never feared for my safety, went on a monologue about how nice it is to live here, and encouraged viewers to come on down and tour the neighbourhood.

I'll do it tomorrow

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

In the days leading up to winter break, I always make a set of grand, hypothetical plans to enjoy a hyperproductive few weeks off. I imagine that all those things I was too busy or stressed out to do during the school year will magically get done as soon as my school workload disappears. This year's list included:

The Maze of Frustration

I'm fairly certain the University is conducting some sort of experiment to see how many frustrations us students can handle before someone snaps and sets the building on fire. I thought they had succeeded today when the fire alarm went off in the middle of my workout--not to mention about 50 students' exams--but after spending 20 minutes wandering the university in a sweat-soaked shirt, a headband clearly made out of scraps of an old t-shirt, and bleach-stained sweatpants (I like to exercise in style), I was allowed back into the building. Having a fire alarm go off in the middle of a kinesiology exam will probably make at least one person blow a fuze, so I expect to return to class in the new year to find the school has been taken over by students from the applied health program.

My Ongoing Feud with Groupon

Looking for a cheap pedicure? Maybe a rub-on tan? Have you ever wished you could have a trained professional use a tiny laser to zap the life out of every single one of your hair follicles, for 10% the going rate? How about paying someone half their usual fee to inject a permanent ink design into your skin? Then Groupon is the place for you.

No, sorry, it's not a hilarious blog-post. It's just another rant about my perfect body.

I know, I know. There are some links I just shouldn't click on, and some articles I shouldn't read. But then I wouldn't have anything to complain about. So, moving on...

I am completely and entirely fed up with articles that tell me how to dress for my body type. The end result being I should just stop reading them, but the reality being that I will continue to read and complain about them for the rest of my life. I have no problem with suggestions about what to wear to make myself look good. I just don't like the general assumptions about what makes me look less good*. It would be fine if the article were titled something like "Tell us what part of you is the ugliest and we'll show you how to hide it," instead of titling it something like "A Little Black Dress for every body". Then I would know what to expect.