take a clue

You know, at some moments in this rather drawn out (yet momentary) existence of ours, I think to myself, “Wow, what a country Canada is!”

And then at others, it appears as though whenever the weather gets warm enough to sleep outside in, all the white people (and the immigrants trying to imitate their lifestyle) buy up half the liquor store, put it all in a few coolers, buy hot dogs and buns and go camping.  Now, I’m sure to some, camping is a real “wildlife” experience, with animal watching, canoeing and hiking happening.  However, most Canadians, whether they’re 20 or twice that, seem to think that mosquito season is a reason to celebrate in a new kind of way: not at the porcelain goddess, but at the glorified non-porcelain dugout filled with other people’s shit (if “camping” actually involved shitting in the woods instead of in a port-a-potty with toilet paper and a flushing mechanism).

I read this thing on Stuff White People Like about how White people use any excuse (ie. the world cup, any vacation day, any sporting event, a birthday, a death, a warm or cold day) to just get drunk out of their minds and post their pictures on facebook or just tell all their friends about that really epic time they got hammered on Canada Day (which, btw, totally shows their solidarity with Canada, its’ founding, and our Royal Mother the Queen.) And, well, I fuckin’ agree.

Don’t we all have better shit to do?

I’m not saying I’m exempt from these practices of utter stupidity on the odd occasion, but I mean, there’s just…. better shit to do.

For example, yesterday, my grandparents flew in from Russia, and I’ve been busy as some laxative induced craps. (Shit shit shit!)

The next couple of weeks are going to be stupid with my stress level – to the point where it’ll become so overwhelming that I’ll need to go “camping”… I’m sure.

‘Cept I don’t do bugs. Seriously. Even when I was a wee Russian child running along in the woods with flowers in my hair and collecting mushrooms and berries – when this little kid saw a mosquito, she was all “FUCK THIS SHIT” and went to play pool inside.

Yeah. Gangsta.  I was a shitty little indoor kid that liked to read. Still am.

I like the piesage (that’s a Russian word, and I’m pretty sure [aka not at all] that it translates to something like scenery), and all that, and the critters are cute if they’re not mangy and rabid, but that’s it. I don’t generally enjoy anyone being near my blood stream -especially because those little fuckers think I taste sweet.  If I smoked (mental note: next summer, start smoking, THEN go camping) I wouldn’t be bothered by them because they like start coughing on it and get emphysema.

Which makes them distracted and then they leave me alone.

Stupid emphysema-laden bitches.

With long snout-noses.

Anyway, just wanted to let you all know I’m here, and trying to select courses (STILL) in order to get good shifts at work, non-shitty professors, and interesting classes. That’s like trying to balance a whale, a blob of snot, and a nodule of shitty smelling herbs lubed up in like, melted butter or something, on your pinky finger while lying on your stomach.  While doing backflips. In a sea of piranhas that are really sexually active.

So, well, I’m going to be focusing on that for a little while then, if you don’t mind.

-Arina

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