snow days

Snow day (noun): 

1. a day during which the weather is so bad that the school buses are cancelled and students do not attend school. (What it is not: a day in which there is snow. Our schoolboard always seems to cancel it on the wrong days- today it's just really rainy- but hey, no complaints!)

2. a) a day during which highschool students sleep all day. (Hahaha, I wish.)

b) a day during which highschool students madly scramble to finish all the projects that they have due. (This is more like it! My project for the day was... wrapping presents! Here's before...

And after! Note that I'm only showing the front of the wrapped presents because the bottoms are really lumpy... penguins are probably better at wrapping than I am. I freely admit it.

As for how it went: I cut myself on the tape dispenser. And bled all over the floor. Other than that, great!)

 c) a day during which much procrastination occurs. (Also true. In addition to all this frantic wrapping... I ate chocolate. And drank tea. And read. If anyone can read French, you should check this series out: Le Journal d'Aurélie Laflamme. So funny. As in, don't read it in public because people might mistake your snorts for choking.) Oh, and I listened to this all day:

No, I was not staring at the video... just absorbing the valuable life lessons contained in the lyrics! There may also have been some (amazingly graceful, of course) dancing happening... just a bit. (As a break from the wrapping.) 

So that was my day. How's your Monday going?

further random thoughts (because my head is still scattered... as usual)

1) Apparently laughing gas doesn't make me giggle... it makes me sob. I literally cried for about three hours afterwards for no reason. Scary...

2) So then I spent wayyyy too much time on Tumblr in order to actually laugh. But it was worth it because I found some pretty amazing pictures... such as this.

3) I am blogging right now because I don't feel like working on homework. /student of the year

4) This picture is kind of my life... and the reason I -coughcough- may have eaten an entire carton of ice cream yesterday.

5) Lizzie Bennet + Doctor Who= the best show ever. (Seriously, this has potential.)

6) I say that Twitter is stupid, but the real reason I don't have an account is because I would spend my entire day posting useless updates like:

• OMG there was a spider. On the ceiling. And I don't know where it went. #saveme
• I DON'T WANT TO WORK #everysingleday
• So apparently our cat-proof doors are also me-proof... just got stuck in the basement.
• Vampire Diaries is the bestttt <3 #icanteven
• Further proof that I am destined to be a crazy cat lady: just got rid of all my stuffies but the cats.

(Is that even how hashtags work? I have no idea. Another reason I should never get Twitter.) 

Okay, so I have now procrastinated sufficiently (and given you a way to procrastinate too! I know, you're so thankful)... so I suppose I should go work on homework -sadface- goodbye lovely listeners!

the alternate use of nail polish remover

I love nail polish. (And HATE long nails. They should belong solely to cats- or crazy cat ladies.) I love trying out different colours and effects- the brighter, the better! (Right now I'm wearing neon orange. Does it clash horribly with all my clothes? Yes, but at least it's noticeable!) However, there are definitely some inconveniences. It doesn't really wash well- there's a lovely bright pink stain on my kilt to prove that. It smells absolutely toxic (although I've heard that some people actually eat it? What's up with that?) and it takes FOREVER to take off. (Also, some colours stain. Blue= corpse hands= very creepy.)

After my 'vampire' attack last week, I decided to apply a nice, bright red. (After all, accessorising is everything!) BAD IDEA. It was extraordinarily difficult to distinguish the blood from the nail polish on my hands. (Out, out, damned spot! Maybe if nail polish remover had been around then, Lady Macbeth never would have killed herself. Hm...) I think I confused them in every single location. My gouges and teeth marks were left burning (although blindingly clean, I'm sure!) but I'm still covered in nail polish. (Yes, I do mean covered. I later discovered some on my ear and on my knee, and I have no idea how it got there.)

Life lesson of the day: nail polish remover (like stationary bikes!) can be a dangerous weapon.

it was a dark and stormy night...

Vampires don't exist, right? Everyone knows that. (Actually, that's not true. I dare you to tell that to a rabid Twilight fan and see their reaction. Might I also suggest you bring a stake and some holy water?) They're a fantasy for some people and a horror for others. (Or both, if you like that kind of thing.) Nowhere, however, do they cross into this humdrum place known as 'the real world'.

Except... what if they do?

The other day, I was walking in the woods by myself, trying not to trip over too many tree stumps and dead leaves and basically minding my own business. (Amazingly, I only fell over twice! And got mud on only three spots, none of them excessively awkward! Yes, that was a great victory indeed.) Suddenly, a dark (and menacing. Very menacing indeed) shape leaped out of the shadows (did I mention it was dusk? The tension mounts), pushed me to the ground and bit savagely down on my hand! Ever since that day, I've had to endure turtlenecks (after some very awkward questions about hickeys) and an odd sensitivity to the sun (thankfully I have some gorgeous sunglasses, allowing me to rock the Audrey Hepburn look). Could it be that I'm transforming into a creature of the night?

...KIDDING!

What tipped you off? The fact that it bit my hand? The fact that I seem so blasé? Or did you know I was joking all along?

Whatever it was, I will now confess the truth. (Which is, unfortunately, far more prosaic. My life could use a few vampires.) I was walking in the woods. I was bitten on the hand. However, it didn't exactly leap out of the bushes. More like... I coaxed it. And petted it for a few minutes first.

Yes. I was bitten by a cat. (In my defence, it hurt!) It was all friendly then, suddenly, it decided that it would rather taste my blood than be petted, and latched onto my arm like a limpet. Despite much shaking and prodding, it refused to get off until, in desperation, I knocked it gently against a tree. (So maybe 'knocked' and 'gently' don't really go together. Whatever.) It finally let go, gave me an insulted look (yes, because this was all my fault) and stalked away, leaving me with blood pouring down my arm. (At least it hasn't inhibited my ability to type too much! Although, come to think of it, my keyboard is looking a little horror-movie-ish...) I suppose I should just be grateful it wasn't a mutant squirrel- I've heard they can sometimes stay attached for weeks.

What about you, dearest readers? Any animal horror stories to share? (Or maybe some tips on avoiding these situations? Although the obvious one, just don't pet stray cats, will probably be ignored.)