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Thursday, April 5, 2012

Classes are dead to me.

Well classes are over for the year. It's quarter to eleven at night so naturally I am pissed out of my brains and ready to go mental and celebrate this glorious moment in my education. Or perhaps I am just curled up in bed watching the Apprentice UK just because I feel too ashamed to go to bed so early...even though I was nearly out for the count a few hours ago. Eli put some cartoons on for me and I think I dropped off for a few minutes, but I am still very much a child in my head so I guess it makes sense. I guess I am partially tired a) because of my coma inducing Renaissance class where I learned about CAT scans, bear attacks and erm. I think that's about it apart from the fact that I'm probably going to do excruciatingly badly on the final exam b) because I went on a lengthy stroll down the canal with Big Papa Stewart and naturally because I have done nothing but be a pathetic hermit since...September, my body has gone into shock from having to move and do something which could perhaps even be called exercise. The fact that I left my room and saw some of Canada might seem unbelievable so I took some photos as evidence:


 I will miss those groundhogs. Legends.

I took my Dad for the canal walk and to the cafeteria, because lets be honest....they are by far the two best things at Carleton. Carleton isn't the worse place in the world, but it's not the kind of place you take someone on a scenic stroll around...unless they like brickwork. It lacks a bit of the old Exeter charm:


My Dad was also asked by immigration why he is was coming to Canada. Obviously he said that he was visiting to come and see his wonderful daughter who is studying in Ottawa. However, when they asked him where I was studying and he said Carleton the man's reaction was an awkward "oh...." and a quick change of subject. Ouch. Poor Carleton. That's the good thing about being at Carleton on exchange. I can defend it when I need to, but when it's under attack I can deny all allegiance to it...even though they did make us participate in the cult-like convocation ceremony all those months ago to the sweet melody of the crazy frog.

Well. Now I am officially old and one year older to a lonely life with my entourage of cats. I will continue to use cool words like "entourage" when this happens, but it won't make a difference to them. They are just cats. I had my midnight serenade from Jess and Alyson in the dark bathroom. We had the Birthday cake in the afternoon. Alyson awkwardly had to ask me for the communal birthday candles so it wasn't much of a surprise when there was a knock on the door a few minutes later, but as they old saying goes "Cake is cake." I also got some Canada themed gifts and as I am overexcitable, childish and tacky it was a dream come true.

I then, after my painfully boring Children's Lit class, ambled over to Ottawa train station to meet my dad. Ottawa train station is a bit of a strange place. It is hauntingly quiet. I was pretty much the only person there. There were definitely more taxi drivers than passengers present and from what I could tell in the 20 minutes that I spent there, there only seemed to be one train. Train 656 to Montreal is now boarding. Train 656 to Montreal is now boarding. It was hypnotic..which is pretty much the same as just being tedious. I had a nice time with my Dad. We went to Lone Star grill, I got the Strawberry Daquiri that I was denied more than a month ago because I forgot my ID. Muhaha! I saw my Dad to his hotel which has a bath, so I'm probably going to head down there for a dip at some point because dammit 3 weeks to wait for a bath is just too damn long. The BEST thing that happened (apart from the seeing him again after 7 months...of course) was in the printer box. I asked for a pack of biscuits and a bottle of squash so I was pleasantly surprised by this beast:

I'm pretty sure my Dad has forgotten that I'm only here for 3 more weeks and not 3 more months. So if any of you are ever hungry and you can use your genius to find out where I live you might get something in return. And if I feel selfish and can't finish it off I guess I'll just unwrap it all and roll around in it just because I can and once again...I'm leaving Canada soon so I don't care too much about any distress I cause people in the near future.

Well, I should probably go to sleep in preparation for the inevitable diabetes that I will be diagnosed with after getting through this lost. I know sleeping isn't a cure for diabetes, but if I am diabetic and sleep deprived I'm going to be even more of a sourfaced, crabby bitch than usual.

Sweet dreams Canada.
I. Am. Hilarious.


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