Models for Jesus

Some of my student loan money materialized in my bank account this morning, and to celebrate, I paid my tuition!

Just kidding. Really, I went to Chapters between classes and got some Terry Pratchett's that were missing from my bookshelves. You can never have too much T.P. That pesky tuition will get paid later.

ANTM - I'm keeping an eye on Amber, super Christian girl, who cries and sings about Jesus at the drop of an imaginary hat. MODELS FOR JESUS! They help people...in poorly defined ways.

First french class today, and the obligatory "introduce yourselves in french" exercise. And the teacher did everything in french, which - after a summer off, and one measly french class under my belt, I am proud to say I understood the gist of it. Mostly. I'll tell you this, though. Working in a bilingual work place half the summer didn't help one bit. She never said anything about mayonaise.

Greek and Latin are fun, I like languages so much better when I'm not expected to speak them. And the course on Native Peoples of North America is going to keep me nicely enraged every Tuesday and Thursday. Seriously, if I had a time machine, I'd spend the rest of my life going back in time to kick pompous old white men in the nuts. I've seen the Butterfly Effect, I know you've got to be careful about changing the past - you end up with no arms, and Amy Smart is a drug addict/prostitute. No one wants that. But a little nut pain - I think I can inflict that without drastically changing the course of history.

Oh, apparently Amber and the Models for Jesus are going to save the world. Look out, 2012. She's gunning for you.

Snakes on a plane

Motherfuckin roaches in my motherfuckin bathroom, yo.

I'm not kidding, this roach last night was at least 3 inches long...ok, maybe only one inch long, but every time I think about it, he gets bigger. It had been a quiet three or four weeks at chez nous. Thank god, because Gord's mom was here and I know she has some roach trauma in her past, and I didn't want her to have PTS while she was visiting. Thanks roach-bitches, for that little detente. Much appreciated.

But they lulled us into thinking we'd won, and the very next day after Chris and Murray left, we saw one...then another...one more...finally culminating in the 3 foot long, giant ass roach that was crawling down the bathroom door last night when I was going to pee before bed.

And my man, with me squeeling and flailing ineffectually, my man kept his head, took control of the situation and with one hand killed that 8 foot tall motherfucking roach. I am so proud. I may one day breed with that man. Just so his mad roach killing skills get passed on.

But now, I can only step inside our bathroom if I fling the door open, scan the room for visible roaches before entering, then look behind or under everything in there. And even then, I'm still too freaked out to perform. Thank god school has started again. I need somewhere to pee.