New York Realities

June 18th

It’s sometime past 6:30AM, and my sister wakes me with a soft knock on the dark wooden door.

Perhaps my reaction is a tad delayed in the fact that I am in fact going into New York city today, as I lie in bed for another five minutes or so, something I do when I’m at home and avoiding the moral call to get ready for work.

I shower with a bar of Aveda soap, and a travel-sized tube of St. Ives apricot scrub. It’s not until after I get out of the shower that I realize that I didn’t wash my armpits. The second round in the shower makes me confront my excitement for the day ahead.

I eat a bowl of multigrain cheerios in what is the immaculate kitchen of this Katonah, NY dream house. I’m a far cry from the still of Breakfast at Tiffany’s I have on my bedroom wall at home, but perhaps that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as I sip a coffee that seems a tad better than the one Miss Golightly holds.

We enter White Plains, NY and I’m greeted by the greatest mall in the area: Westchester Mall. It’s a Wednesday morning, and arriving upon opening brings me stares from the mall employees. I always hate the first customers of the day, too.

It’s a cornucopia of American stores: Gap, Banana Republic, American Eagle, American Apparel, Starbucks, Urban Outfitters. It’s like I’m home again.

Urban Outfitters ends up being my only place of success, which is something of a surprise to me, but perhaps my high-standards are somewhat lowered in the face of two-dollar Girls calendars and ten-dollar BDG hoodies.

In my two hours, I’ve tried on more clothes than I have in a whole year, across the mall. I never try things on, but in the spirit of killing time, I indulge myself.

I walk up to my sister’s hair salon, and arrive a tad early. I’m greeted by her colourist, who informs me that I must go to “The Village.” I nod my head like he has just told me the secret to happiness, but inside my head there’s not a whole lot going on. The only village I know of is this really try-hard section of Park Royal with a Whole Foods and a Tommy Bahama’s.

We drive into the city, and I try to capture moments of the George Washington bridge as we drive by it. Sadly, there’s a lot of dashboard in these shots.

Ultraviolence plays the whole way into the city, with “Brooklyn Baby” played on repeat a couple of times. I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to Brooklyn with the lyrics of Lana this fresh in my head.

The day seems like a dream.

We park somewhere in a garage somewhere down an avenue that is in the forties. I watch the silver Jeep go up a lift, before I enter the humidity and hostility that is the air of New York City.

If there’s something to be said about this city, it’s that it’s alive. There is life every single place you look, there are people every single place you look. I can’t stop looking around as we dart through the people, only stopping when the light is truly red. It’s lunch time now, and the line-ups for food trucks are as big as they seem on The Food Network. My mind is on so many things, except where our end point could be.

Stop. We’re going the wrong way.

Turn around, dart faster, faster.

Dang, I am never doing NYC with a triathlon runner again, I think.

She darts into a building about five minutes later, and I chase after her striped dress, the door almost hitting me on the way in.

We’re at a show. The show has just started, but they still give us tickets. We rush up flights of stairs to our seats. It all starts to hit me that this is all really happening, and I’m about to see Michael C. Hall, Toni Collette, and Marisa Tomei in about thirty seconds. My sister remembered me briefly mentioning it, and totally surprised me! The show, The Realistic Joneses, takes just over an hour, critiquing human socialization, with a dark comedic edge.

It was one of the coolest shows I’ve seen, mostly because I haven’t watched anything like it before.

We’re ushered down the opposite spiral staircase to the street, and I sheepishly sneak my way back in to find a ‘restroom’ as the American’s call it.

—

We wander through Times Square, and I’m greeted by what is the biggest H&M I have ever seen, and a Gap that had a lot of the same stuff that my store had at home (ah, corporations.)

—

By this time, we’re reminded that our last substance was a package of mini-biscotti-esque cookies, and a lukewarm bottle of water.

We head to an area called Hell’s Kitchen, and head into a place called Mercato, as recommended by her colourist. It’s all very hip, and cute, with some patrons fawning over the World Cup near the bar. I don’t really taste the food as I shovel it down, but perhaps the point of this meal is the presence of my sister’s smile across the table from me.

—

We head towards Greenwich Village, taking the Subway. It’s a far-cry from the Canada Line, as their turnstiles actually work. Getting off near NYU, we walk to the Village, which falls short of the shopping I was promised. I see various stalls with vendors, a Chipotle, and a schwack of piercing places on the same block. Although tempting to add to my body mods while I’m away, I decide to save a sweet sixteen-esque, impulse piercing for another day.

We head for SoHo, walking by cool stores like Rag & Bone, and Brooklyn Industries on the way. In SoHo, I’m greeted by familiar stores like Zara, and Converse. Dean & DeLuca catches my eye, and I’m reminded of that moment in The Devil Wears Prada where they name-drop D&D for their pricetag of almost $8 per strawberry.

—

We subway back to somewhere near the forty-something avenue where the Jeep is, as it’s starting to hit dusk, and we’re both tired.

It’s been quite the day for me, walking through this city of dreams and dashed stars. I get to play Lana in the dark, as my sister drives back up-state.

You’re crazy for me, croons Lana in the outro to “Cruel World,” and honestly that couldn’t sum up my feelings for this city more. I am crazy for it.

—

I say a quick goodnight to my sister, and brother-in-law, once we arrive, and hear the echo of my patter on the hardwood, as I walk to my room.

I shut the dark hardwood door softly and wince in pain for a moment, as I look down at my right foot.

A small blister has decided to emerge on my pinkie toe after the day’s events.

There it is: my crown.

Derrick Gravener: Honorary New Yorker, for a day.

Course Selection Season A.K.A Ultraviolence

Much like the beautiful and tragic new Lana Del Rey album, we are greeted by something also equally beautiful and tragic: Course Selection Season.

It’s the thing that keeps you up at night, wondering if you’ve been good enough all year to not get a schedule full of coal. You can’t sleep the night before. You hold your stuffed alligator or what have you close to you at night, and let out a childish wimper, as this is something even your respective parent can’t fix for you.

Here’s some tips for making it through it:

1. Food

Rule #1 to any conflict in my life always revolves around food.

For course selection, might I suggest a handful of trail mix, or some camomile tea. Let’s aim for something calming. We all know that your Sociology discussion is probably going to fill up about fifteen minutes before your scheduled registration time, and spilt tea is a lot easier to clean up then like a two-six of Dr. Pepper.

2. Multiple Worklists

I’m going to say it again for everyone’s benefit: MULTIPLE

Keep a sheet of what courses you really need. The key is to register as fast as possible. I’m not saying course selection is like a race, but I’m also not, not saying that. You feel me?

3. The Worklist May NOT Match Your Registered Courses

Remember that if you don’t get everything on your worklist, and you end up frantically adding something else, it will only pop-up on your “registered courses” and not your worklist.

Make sure you make a final worklist of your registered courses, as to save yourself some confusion in the future. Seriously, trust me. I’m freaked out too many times when I thought that two courses were overlapping in term two.

4. Advising is Always (ok, almost always) There for You

Call your faculty’s advising line, or shoot them an email if you run into something major.

If you don’t know who to go to, talk to your Enrolment Services Professional (ESP. They know what’s up, and who to holler at. (Shoutout to Cara Low for being an awesome ESP!!!)

5. Profs are USUALLY Pretty Cool

What I mean by this is they are like usually really approachable over e-mail or something. Sometimes not, sometimes they don’t email you back, but like this is one of those YOLO moments. Sometimes they even let you into their class even though it’s technically full. (Thanks, Dr. Oh!)

6. Waitlists Happen

Don’t be scared off by the waitlist! Go sign up for it if you REALLY want that course.

7. Check the SSC a BUNCH during first week

People drop out of a lot of courses during first week. If you STILL want that course, go check for it during first week. It could save a whole lot of paperwork for you and your faculty’s advising department!

8. Go Online (At Least) An Hour Before

See if any of your courses are already full, and shift your schedule around a little bit earlier. This will save you a ton of stress, hopefully.

—

And finally…

Learning

hallo.

welcome back to the possibility wasteland. holla.

—

whoa i finished first year.. ssssssssssshhhhoooooooooooooot

Seriously, that’s basically me… ^^

Transit + Other Drugs

It’s been a crazy year, yo. Like, I can still remember my first days on campus, being woken up on the bus by some other student. And like, now I can basically wake myself up on the bus. T A L E N T.

um. what else. i don’t recommend catching the 4 late at night. take the 99 because it comes more often, and then take the skytrain because the broadway-city hall station is really close to a Whole Foods open ’till 10PM and a Save-on-Foods open ’till 11PM. seriously, late night snacking ftw. ALSO MCDONALDS OPEN 24HRS there.

personal tip is try to get to school before like the huge rush (8:30-9AM??) cause then like you can get Starbz in the SUB or something without a grande line-up.

erm what else idk. learn to sleep on buses, but don’t fall asleep on other people because then people write things about students that aren’t very cooool.

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Food

seriously i spent hella money on food this year and like pro-tip would be to bring it from home, or find someone that you kinda sorta look like and steal their meal plan, (pref. varsity plan) no srsly. kidding.

stealing is bad, tho.

but like there’s no such thing as a bad sandwich. (mhm. dont quote me on that. perhaps my sandwich game is just really stong.)

also:

-subway is mreh. dont go expecting anything amazing. they are not made with love.

-the salad bar is pretty overpriced.

-the deli knows what’s up

-the burger bar is pre sketch. like sometimes they don’t cook the chicken all the way. i saw it. the fries are aiight.

-bernoulli’s is what dreams are made of. cinnamon cream cheese on a chocochoco chip bagel. WORD.

-Vanier’s has rlly good pasta and like the wraps are good, albeit, overpriced. don’t be afraid to go and check it out, even if you’re a commuter or don’t even go to ubc. we know who you are.

-venturing into the village never killed anyone, and like that place down the stairs, by the McD’s has some really stellar options for cheap Chinese food after like 5PM.

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Bookz

the bookstore hates you and does not have your best interests at heart.

might i suggest doing some research before hand and trying to buy it off a student a la UBC Textbooks for Sale – Facebook Group??

Maybe buy it off Amazon?

Maybe go to that place in the village that claims to be cheaper idk.

BUT LIKE MAYBE ALSO DO YOUR RESEARCH SO THAT YOU BUY THE RIGHT ONE IF U TAKE MEASURES INTO YOUR OWN HANDS.

AND THEN YOU WONT BE OUT 30$ BECAUSE SOME CHICK SCAMS YOU FOR HER GERMAN 100 BOOK WHICH IS ACTUALLY NOT EVEN GOOD FOR REALLY ANYTHING. (im not bitter at all.)

Sanity and Goals and Self-Worth

YEAAAAAAAAH idk.

All I can really say on this topic is try to prioritize, and time manage as best you can, and get all your assignments in on time.

Pro tip # deux is surround yourself with cool people who motivate you, and think you’re hot apple pie, because there are days when you will feel like you are leftover fruit loops in the box, outside the bag, that someone forgot about.

you cannot do this alone.

try to get involved, and get outside, and get a reasonable amount of sleep, and dont drink too much coffee.

i know i sound like a really concerned parent raining on a parade of college freedom, but seriously your mental health is gonna take a really bad turn if you go on some sort of no sleep, full-sugar bender.

self-worth: find something you love and hold on tight to it, because there is going to be so much other stuff flying at you during the year, you may lose sight of it. whatever happens, don’t forget to look down at what you decided to hold on to for yourself.

goals: pfft those are for second year. pFFFFFFFFT.
no seriously, set realistic goals, and be prepared to make sacrifices.

Concluding Statements:

first year was pretty rad for me, but i certainly had some tough times.

i’d like to thank my family, and my social circle for providing food, and emotion support. y’all are like a river rock and you catch me when i’ve gone down the creek a little too far.

title for this blog was inspired by this:

more to come on first year advice. i got some stories, yo.

shoutout to all the peeps who got admitted to ubc, and all the peeps that start summer courses this week (me, holla). it’s gonna be CRAAAAAAAY. RAISE THE ROOF. FLASH THE PEOPLE DOING CONSTRUCTI– ok never mind, that was a tangent. this isn’t freakin’ Spring Breakers.

k byeee~

Phreshman Year

hey, so i totally disappeared for a month, and i apologize for that, but sometimes writing is not really what you think it should be and you have like loads of things that you’ve started blogging about that are just sitting in your draft folder that don’t actually turn into anything.

—

click. clack.

—

So, I’m going to be super narcissistic and write about my uni lyfe. cause it’s all happening. and it’s happening fast.

here are the things about phreshmen year that are making me tick. and tock:

Identity Crisis
—

I had a pile of clothes and hangers on the ground today, because like, i dont actually know what my style is anymore. I mean like things are preppy and then some things are punk and then some things are straight up leopard print. like, what is MEE-OW?

but, like stocking up on more black, grey, white, and navy is always a thing close to my heart.

and then im like WOW i should be more social. i should friend more people on facebook and take an active role in making a name for myself. why dont more people like my profile picture? i need to instagram more. i need more friends on snapchat so that i can snap them more selfies of me eating out of the nutella jar.

and, then my writing style is a constant identity crisis, because there is how i’m writing right now, super casual, and then there’s also like write-your-seven-page-paper writing and then i’m all “pinkies up, fishes, we must attempt to convey poise and class.”

and sometimes i feel like the colour ink i choose is indicative of my life or something, and like i lost my fave ever red pen during reading week last week and read too much into what the symbolism of that might be and like omg my life is falling apart.

//but then i realize that i can actually buy another one.

i’m just out $6 because kewl pens are rlly expensive, and life lesson: swag costs money, kids.

Classes in General
—

So, honestly box, I’m not a huge fan of really any of the courses I’m taking right now, except for German.

–which, like really sucks.

——- because i’m paying money for them

———- and paying money for things that you aren’t getting swag out of is like eating biscuits without gravy. you feel me? (side note: honey butter is also acceptable)

but seriously, fri3nds, real talks,

take courses you like. and don’t take a coordinated arts stream unless you absolutely know what you want to do with your life.

because I most certainly do not, and here I am like knee-deep in a creek of ice cold media jargon.

Dreams
—

what are those????

no, seriously, I walked by Toys ‘R Us last night on Broadway at like 10PM when they were closed and it looked really bleak and I was like: “dreams die in there…”

But, seriously my last year of high school was all:

WOW. D R E A M

And this year has just been like:

Profs, tho.

So cheers, to the broke student life, and being realistic, and for getting shut down by profs. WINNNNNNING.

..tears

Food
—

I will never shut up about food, because seriously i can’t figure out how to do the thing most of the time.

I mean do i buy a whole pizza at mercante????? go to vanier caf? go to triple o’s? cry about the knorrs sidekick that is the pasta dish at Ike’s? rant about the sad selection of muffins at stir it up/ buy every candy imaginable there? go to the sub and survey every place ever just to decide that what I REAAALLY want is Tim Horton’s?

like,

what do>>>>????

Time Management
—

Let’s talk about that later.

—

seriously,

if i don’t plan most everything i basically fall apart and just end up napping the whole day or just marathon-ing Girls or something

Tangents
—

Full disclosure, I had to go to Tumblr to find that, and then I forgot my password, because I’m usually on my phone when i go on tumblr, and then i had to go check my Gmail, and then there were a bunch of other emails like the fact that Ingrid Michaelson is coming to down again, and is going to venue, and yet again, i will not be 19. and then i just pouted for a sec.

and then i went on youtube, because they also emailed me.

and then i forgot what i was doing.

and then i sort of reflected on the Oscars tonight and I still can’t decide how I feel about them…

DOES THIS EVER HAPPEN TO YOU?

DO YOU EVER JUST DROWN ON THE INTERNET IN WORDS AND GIFs and FEELS and PEOPLE.

UGH.

—

But, honestly, this is a cool time. and a not cool time. but mostly cool.

and i gotta just remember that.

—

let’s all raise a Starbucks and clink paper cups.

[clinks]

Happy(?) Holidays

Greetings, and welcome to back to The Wasteland.

Today, I will attempt to articulate more of the things that actually go on inside of my head.

So, cool, since like we’re all saying it and stuff, I’ll like give into peer pressure, and acknowledge the fact that I had to ~~throw away~~ recycle my 2013 page-a-day calendar.

This of course means that like the holidays are now officially over and that we are supposed to move on with our lives and start something new, and deal with the repercussions of the holiday season, which no one really acknowledges.

I mean, they’re supposed to be filled with joy and cheer and all that, but what if they’re not?

Well, folks, then you are proclaimed as a grinch, and everyone forever just writes you off for the season. But, like there are some serious happenings:

a. ca$hMoney$wag

Not gonna lie, I kinda spent the panettone amount of money, on my wonder bread budget. I mean, I was just really behind on my shopping after a certain point and things got out of hand.

Not like it’s serious, don’t worry y’all, it would just be nice to not have to go into the New Year being super frugal.

It’s cool. Walmart does have Mr. Noodles, though. And I hear those jazz sticks mix well with bologna. also side of ranch with that. hey girl.

b. Food

It’s the time of the year to “indulge” and “treat yourself.” Stuffing your face full of Stovetop is completely acceptable.

–Flash-forward some time and you’re now expected to work out every single day and become some new person, with some great new bawdy laik wow omg.

But, real talks, I have a box of Himalayan pink salt caramels that aren’t going to eat themselves.

c. Persona

You’re totally expected to be this new person, who is super optimistic and positive, after the holidays. With all these goals, and new healthy activities. And then if you don’t do them you’re like a failure or something. I don’t understand.

I mean, yes, it’s the first of January, but be your own person or something, and don’t let a calendar dictate to you which days you want to bring change into your life.

You’re not going to dramatically change overnight.

UNLESS:

– you buy a month’s supply of Proactiv. sponsored by Justin Bieber, Jessica Simpson, Adam Levine, or everyone else who doesn’t actually understand what severe acne is.

-Or, like cut off three and half fingers…

so transforms. much change.

d. Drama

So much family time is bound to end in some skeletons coming out of the closet, right?

Same goes with your friends too.

Let’s not forget about “holidayting” a person: only dating for the holidays, because of loneliness.

But, like on the bright side, who needs cable with all of the drama happening in your life? I mean cancel your Netflix too, and save yourself $8 a month, and go buy some bags of ice for all the burns your friends dealt out.

And, like that fancy grade popcorn, none of that microwavable stuff. You earned the bag of white cheddar stuff for all of the cheesy, romantic nonsense that discharged from the mouths’ of the “holidaters.”

the struggle is real…

—

So holla. The holidays are a weird time.

I’m just gonna go eat soup and take some selfies until school starts.

MILKIN’ IT. #RIPPLEEFFECTUBC

So, I actually got myself out on campus today to see a ripple effect lab!

It did not involve birds.
It did not involve planes. (cry)

IT
INVOLVED
COWS.

And, not just any cows, DAIRY COWS.

So, like, I drink milk, eat yoghurt, dream of ice cream, steam some cheese, dollop the sour cream, delight in fro-yo, cry happy tears into bowls of whipped cream. Yeah, I’m basically a milk addict. SOOOOOOOOOOOOO guyz, it’s no shock that I would jump at the chance to go learn more about where all of this stuff comes from.

Today I was greeted by the lovely faces of a dairy cow, PEARL, and a three-week-old calf, SAM. Both obviously had that celebrity cow charm, but it was Sam who took the cake, like the EYES on that kid. Basically, a future Island Farms model.

HEY, SAM!

He was potentially the most endearing thing on campus that I saw all day. He isn’t even old enough to know when he’s full or not, so he just spent the majority of the time after his feeding looking for things to suck on, after the bottle was gone. I don’t think I’ve “aweh-ed” out loud that much, ever.
Don’t tell anyone I have a sensitive side.
This can’t get out.

ANYWAY, He’s supposed to grow up to be about 1600-1800 pounds. I mean. DANG BOII.
Not only is he going to be buff and handsome, he also showed tremendous talent, walking at the age of only 2 hours!

Artsy shot of the feeding. #SamLyfe

[pause for reflection of what I was probably doing at the age of two hours…]

His veteran partner, Pearl, though, has quite the story, too.

PEARL, in the background, plus milking machine, plus milker/presenter extraordinaire…

She currently lives in Cloverdale, BC, and enjoys semi-long walks around the farm.
She needs to be milked about two, to three, times a day, or else.
She produces up to about 2240 jugs of milk, in the 10 month lactating cycle. (So, like all of the ice cream I eat?)
She got a tongue, that is 12 inches long. GURLLLLL. You, go.
She needs to chill out for an hour, after being milked, and not lie down, or ELSE her teats will be at risk for disease. (Gosh, it is hard being famous. I feel her pain.)
She enjoys a mixture of corn, grass, alfalfa, hay, and different ground grains for her meals.
She drinks about 120 litres of water, per day.
Each teat has its own compartment, which is why each one needs to be milked.
And, finally, her milk won’t leave the province, because it’s BC milk, and it’s meant to stay here.
BECAUSE
Canada does not export its milk, outside of the country.

For me, this was an awesome Ripple Effect lab, because I got to learn more about how much dairy, one cow actually produces. It also reaffirmed my belief that more meals can be made out of a dairy cow’s resources than simply a cow meant for meat. And, hey, that’s pretty sustainable.

So, with #RippleEffectUBC coming to a close tomorrow, I know I will leave with a more enlightened perspective on how I can fit more sustainability into my everyday life, as well as plan for a future, with even more lifestyle changes.

But, for now, I’ll just stick to eating ice cream out of the carton.

That Time I Put Chips in a Girl’s Hair.

hello, and welcome back to another episode of my random life. today, we will be flashing back to various enigmatic fragments of my childhood that shaped me into the mysterious human being that I am today.

But,

Maybe I’m not even human?

Maybe I’m not even mysterious? (Certain people from Chicago would agree…)

Maybe it’s not even today?

[pause for philosophical reflection// to go eat brownies out of the pan with(out) a fork.]

So, most people are really cool cats and they have their rebellious stage in like the early years of high school etc.

but, like I am clearly cooler, so I had to have it in grades 1-3.

If I remember correctly, my whole rebellion began when someone wrote “Derrick likes girls” on the board, in grade one.

Look at me, hanging with the ones with cooties. I was basically the Miley Cyrus of my grade. But, my popularity was once eclipsed by this other boy who got one earlobe pierced. Plot twist: he had two earlobes on one ear, too.

Like, HOW DO I COMPETE WITH THAT?

Answer: ~~Petty~~ HARDCORE Theft.

GUMMY BEARS.

So, yeah, I would just go into our classroom at lunch/recess, because the teacher left the door unlocked (what a rookie), and go into the unlocked drawer of her filing cabinet (seriously, she was too trusting), and take handfuls of gummy bears for my friends and I.

Needless to say, this made me popular again.

Eventually, my teacher figured out that someone was doing it, and actually locked the door at lunch. YAWN.

But, I was never caught.

(Mrs. Tressider, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry if this caused you any emotional turmoil, and will buy you a tub of gummy bears. Heck, maybe two since you read my blog. Ok, seriously, three, because like if you were actually reading this that would be hella creepy, and creepers like you deserve some serious props. Keep doing what ‘chu do, gurl.)

That was grade one summed up, save the occasional bartering with my teacher regarding what reading level I thought I was, versus what she thought I was.

—

By grade two, I had gained a status as an ally with the girls, and was occasionally put in as mediator, when two girls argued who killed the spider, which had evidently caused the rain.

I had also grown an overactive imagination, on account of the sleep I did not really get. I imagined that, at night, my parents got in their car, and turned into monsters, and went around eating people.

Yep.

Of course, they returned back to normal, in the morning.

My peak though was putting chips in this girl’s hair, whom I was like really crushing on. (HEY KIMBERLEY, IF YOU’RE READING THIS.) (side note: she also goes to UBC now! small world, yo.)

So obvi I had to figure out a way to get her attention.

Which meant chasing her halfway around school to put crunched up salt ‘n’ vinegar chips in her hair.

It was some of my finest work.
Critics were raving about it.
Supervision Aids were overly concerned about it.
Hair was lost over it.
Tears were shed.

Needless to say she wasn’t into me, even after I had poured my metaphorical heart (of chips) all over her. WHY COULDN’T SHE SEE? (I’m really good at giving/receiving signals regarding affection for someone, LAWLZ, not.)

So, I moved on, to this other girl, who liked TY stuffies, like me, and also had a slight obsession with the Lindsay Lohan version of Freaky Friday.

A majestic playdate ensued, and we ended up watching Freaky Friday together, and we both fangirled over the fact that she had a DVD player. (I came from a VHS family, guys. The struggle was real.)

I drew a portrait of her and I on the cover of my “Student of the Week” planner, when it was finally my week. Turns out that book is full of lies, because I forgot which hospital I was actually born in, so I just said Children’s hospital to fit in with the people that were emerging as popular.

—

Grade Three was basically me being super angst-y, and taking it out on my handwriting notebook. This is probably why my handwriting is really ugly, to this day, and like why I can’t really take notes in a class, because I usually can’t read them after.

The key display of my angst was around remembrance day 2003 (THROWBACK GUYZ), when this kid and his mom brought in these patches and medal things (that were his grandfather’s) for show-and-tell.

We were expected to pass them around and gawk at how amazing they were, but I was so unimpressed, so instead of getting up to pass the patch around the room, I threw it. Now, it was a patch, so it went like less than a foot, but it still hit the ground. DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN.

And my teacher was all, YOU GET A YELLOW CARD.

and I was all, STOP MAKING THIS ABOUT YOU. I’m the one that got hit by the bus.

but real talks, His mom probably still hates me..

Whatevs. She needed a haircut.

—

I was basically your model child.

Oh, btws, I also host children’s birthday parties. Call me?

Day-Old Moonshine

Category Archives: oh yes i did