i finished the steaming pile of turdiness that is my final paper of my first year of my masters. *air horn* *whistle posse inside!* to say i didn't put any effort in would be a gross and most egregious understatement. i didn't even edit it. just ran it through spell-check. i even resorted to doing the whole calculate-my-average-to-figure-out-the-minimum-grade-i-need-to-pass routine. i can get a C+ and still end up with a B- in the course. even a C+ is looking pretty grim, imo, but i simply can't care enough. i'm banking on the fact that they won't fail me, and that if they do, i'm going to raise hell. i'm totally fine with a B- on my academic record, because for required courses that have nothing to do with my interests or abilities, i'm laissez-faire with the marks thing. me and statistics are mortal enemies, and i'm willing to concede defeat to the might of its boring esotericness.
i forgot this anecdote from the weekend with the fam. i was pushing little ze around on his stroller at markville mall, and i had to go downstairs to sportcheck to pick up sweatbands for dodgeball. so i took the elevator down. when i was done, i didn't want to wait for the elevator, so i put him on the escalator. some random dude who worked for the mall went ballistic on me: "CAN'T YOU READ?! IT SAYS RIGHT THERE...NO STROLLERS ON THE ESCALATOR!!! TAKE THE ELEVATOR!!! IT'S DANGEROUS!!! CAN'T YOU READ?!?" i was completely affronted at this attack on my "parenting" skills. coupled with the fact that i don't let ANYONE talk to me like that, i was indignant and pretty effin pissed. who the EFF was this guy?!? so do you know what my rejoinder was? only this sweet little number: "PEOPLE HAVE BEEN DOING IT FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS!" you know, like in those egyptian hieroglyphics, where they depict nefertiti wheeling the young sun god up the stone escalator (built on the backs of the enslaved israelites, of course) in his gold and obsidian stone stroller. in my defense, it was in the heat of the moment. i was so peeved though at judgmental mcgee taking stabs at my parenting skills. first of all...strollers have been going up and down escalators since escalators have been invented. second of all, the number of stroller-related escalator accidents can't be that high. third of all, try living downtown, bubs, where 90% of the ttc stops don't have elevators. my mum said it's probably because he thought i was some teenage mom, or worse, the nanny.
in other other news, my ex bf might be moving into the vacant apartment upstairs with my other buddy. !!!!! everyone i've told seems to give me the whole "um, okaaaay" routine...but he's been in scotland for a year, and now he has a wicked gf who i really like, and i think it's going to be fine. we get along really well for the most part, he just likes to get a rise out of me, and i tend to take the bait. we can sometimes bicker alot, like siblings...but now that he's been away for a year...it feels like things have settled into place. he's been one of my closest friends for more than 10 years...i'm glad we're still buddies after all the crap i put the poor guy through.
for dinner tonight we're having homemade pizzas! one is going to have sauteed spinach, roasted peppers, maybe roasted garlic, carmelized onion and asiago and parm. the other one is going to have thinly sliced potato, caramelized onion, rosemary, and gorgonzola. with a salad.