Somehow, only one of my pairs of boxers shrunk in the wash, without me realizing it. When I put them on, my first thought was, “MY PACKAGE HAS GROWN BIGGER”.

Spent the weekend at Trolley’s house with Wheaties, Aaron, and Nick. The car ride took about three hours, squeezed into the back of his compact Jetta. I would have called shotgun but I doubt anyone would have respected it; Nick and Aaron had priority as the biggest guys. I made a playlist for the ride there, and it was good for the first half. The problem with such playlists is that they’re usually meant for summer in the open air, not night time winter rides. A lot of songs end up being inappropriate.

Trolley’s place is a 350 acre farm, on a long road that’s actually named after his family. Definitely a place with personality and an amazing view of the open countryside. Heat is turned up by throwing more logs in the furnace. His cat Femo is more vocal than Dolly and always cries for attention. She’ll quickly turn belly up if you scratch her the right way, and doesn’t like to wander more than an arms-length away.

The first party was at the cabin, which is a small hunting lodge a 10 minute walk away, also owned by the Trolley’s. That’s when I remembered that I’m really bad at parties with lots of drunk people. Drunk people who I don’t know scare me. A lot. I never know what the hell they’re going to do. At one point, two people put on boxing gloves and started beating the shit out of each other in this tiny cabin, which must be about 196 square feet. The second party was at the house, and much lower key. People started jumping into the hot tub and out the window then rolling around in the snow. I didn’t drink the first day (aside from a swig from a bottle of Fireball, which actually isn’t bad), but ended up buying some alcohol for the next.

One of the days was spent on a hill on some private property. We set up a jump to do some freestyle board riding, and broke out the modified GT Snowracers and toboggans.

A great time.

Hellooooooooo insomnia.

I hate my laugh. No, really. It’s a combination of my mothers’ laugh (a sort of gaspy, light, heaving) and Mike’s laugh (short bursts of falsetto squeaking). Someone once told me that it’s what she liked about me, but I think she just associated it with my sense of humour.

I have figured out the easiest stir-fry in the world. One morning I took my stir-fry strips out of the freezer to defrost by the time my classes were done. When I got home, I realized that I had no vegetables and I was too tired to make rice (actually it was more of being too tired to clean the rice pot because it’s always a bitch). I found a pack of garlic pasta salad, and threw everything together.

Ingredients:

1. Approximately 700 grams of beef stir-fry strips
2. One bag of Green Giant Garden Creations Pasta Salad (Garlic)

Directions:

1. Pre-heat frying pan to medium heat, add oil
2. Add stir-fry strips and garden salad
3. Cover and stir occasionally until the pasta is desired tenderness (should take about 20 minutes, liquid should be a light sauce by then)

Note: To ensure beef is cooked through, add beef in pan a few minutes before the pasta salad.

On a good day I can find two pairs of pants that I want to try on. Today I found five, and none were right. Either they didn’t fit, or the cut ended up different when I actually put them on. Why is it so hard for me to find pants? Nice, durable yet comfortable, baggy yet fits around my waist, wide-leg, plain-looking pants.