MVP!

I know the idea of going to a banquet for one's government agency softball team doesn't sound like the ultimate way of spending a Friday night, but after food and drinks at Local Heroes, a couple more drinks at the banquet, TERRIBLE 90s dance music, druken karaoke and a little touch of Bon Jovi, things turned out pretty darn good!

Oh, AND it helps if you win a free drink, a door prize (bottle of Sourpuss, which I shared with my teammates in a communal shot,) and winning the MVP trophy!

All in all, good times were had by all!!

The banquet was exceptionally refreshing as it had followed up a most formidably productive group work activity on my day off, cramped in a little study room of Ottawa U's Library. Not the best way to spend a Friday afternoon, but I suppose it helped us get some work done. Work that we're generally not able to complete in our super good research class because, well, nothing much CAN be done sitting around trying to decipher between what the prof is saying, and what the hell you're supposed to be doing. But I digress...

The effort of studying political science is having a serious impact on my sleeping pattern. Just the other night, I had a dream that a former friend of mine from grade school cut off his head in an effort to rebel, or something, against the government. So there he is, or at least, there his head is, in the toilet stall next to mine. And I get to thinking, you know, all this studying of political violence and last night's PoliThought class about the French Revolution MIGHT be a little too much for ya! That might in fact be the case considering the next dream I had, I had moved to England and was seconds away from being hit by an RAF warplane that was about to crash into the building I was in, where, for some inexplicable reason, a choir of little children were singing Christmas carols...

Wow, I seriously need to see a dream interpreter or something.

Maybe a psychoanalyst would be a better idea.

Can I say a little something here, a little sidenote, about pants? I think I will. Let me tell you a little something about pants. I spent an HOUR AND A HALF at the Rideau the other day, trying to find an outfit, seeing as how the government finally took me off their little string and decided to give me what was comin' to me! Anyway, all this time passes, and I manage to ONLY pick up a pair of pants within the last 10 minutes of my little excursion. Why? Because for some reason, the fashion industry makes clothing for ladies without thighs. Unfortunately, I am not one of those ladies. So sue me if I'd like to get a pair of pants that fits simultaneously around my waist AND my things without having to compensate by either getting the baggy waist with the puffy crotch because they're too big OR the too-tight-thigh-look, you know, the look where if you take one step out of line your legs might burst out at the seems? ANYWAY. Thank you Roots for the sweet pair of pants you sold to me. And to everyone else, Bite me.

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