Welcome to Winnipeg: Home of Men with Large Dongs.

So my Stats exam is on Friday they 13th.

What's the probability of that, I ask you?

Went to a party on Friday night. Drank two bottles of red wine. Woke up in pretty okay shape. Just a little stupid, that's all.

Turns out citrusboy was mixing beer with wine, so he woke up wrecked. Couldn't even move his head.

So he enlisted my help, along with Jen's, to go get him some Burger King to soothe the angry hangover beast.

Now, it's pretty warm in Winnipeg. Ten feet high snow caps are melting everywhere.

So Jen and I are sitting in the car, waiting to turn out of the Burger King parking lot and into the street. Her window is rolled down, oh, about one inch.

And apparently, unbeknown to us, there's a huge (I mean HUGE) puddle right next to our car.

Of course, cars are driving down the street, past us, and right into this huge puddle. Which then proceeds to throw up a wall of filthy, greasy, street water right through the one inch crack in the window and onto Jen and me. Twice.

So Jen's hair, Jen's face, Jen's glasses, Jen's jacket, and Jen's purse are plastered in nastiness. The ceiling of the car, the dash, and the seats are coated. My jacket and my pants are dirty. All we can do is stare at each other and laugh till it hurts. I mean, really? What else can you do? How does that happen? A one inch crack...

Somehow, the Burger King remained untouched. Not a single drop fell into the bag even though it was wide open. Luck of the drunk.

Well, as usual, I get stuck working with the dumbasses of the faculty.

One doesn't know what "restitution" means. Another doesn't know what "commence" means.

Just how am I supposed to write a 10 minute speech with these people when they don't know basic vocabulary, are quite the opposite of comma happy, and think it's a tragedy when a paragraph only contains one sentence.

And then they want to correct my section of the speech. Please ladies, just leave it alone. Don't touch it, don't look at it, don't even breathe on it! You might contaminate it and lead me to write things like, and I quote, "They will deal with the most important issues dealt with through their plan of the day." Say what, now?

And my lab partner doesn't know how to add percentages together to get a total percent. She feels the need to call me and whine about how she doesn't know how to do that part. She wants to ask the professor.

Ow. My head hurts.

Okay, seriously? WTF?!?

So I wander into the Stats Lab to finish my stats assignment.

I sit down at a computer and insert my jump drive. The whole computer freezes and is on the verge of a nuclear meltdown. Incidentally, this same computer worked for me yesterday just fine.

I go to another computer. It doesn't have adobe installed. I can't open my assignment without adobe.

I go to another computer and, no, third time is not a charm. This one refuses to send my emails.

I go to a fourth computer and finally: the jump drive works, adobe is installed, emails are going off, and I can do my assignment.

Least of all, of course, I look like a complete moron jumping from computer to computer.

What the fuck. Honestly.

So I'm at the gym the other day, working out on some of the Kaiser machines. I get off the biceps machine and start to move towards the triceps machine, when all of a sudden some horizontally-challenged "lady", who is lumbering her way off the thigh machine, is all "Excuse me, but I'm using that!"

Really? You are? You haven't even managed to make it off the first machine and now you're commandeering the next one? Seriously? What do you even say to people like that?

So I'm thinking: okay fine, maybe this is her last machine and she's in a hurry and needs to leave.

But no. Then she goes to wipe down her machine and steps in front of me (on purpose, I can only assume; no one can can truly be this annoying, can they?) and sloooooowly reaches for the bottle and towel. She stands there for a good 30 seconds (which may not seem long, but really is when you want to smack somebody across the head), completely blocking my path to any other machines.

After that, she climbs on the leg press, and starts a leisurely conversation with someone else about how, after Christmas, she likes to get out for some light exercise before spring. Lady, what you need is to stop chugging the doughnuts and start living at the gym. Light exercise. Good god, woman!

Finally I'm just so annoyed with this crazy woman, I have to leave. I go into the ladies' change room, and there are little boys running around all over it. And not little, little boys, but like 5 or 6 years old. Oy.

Now, I don't really care if these boys see my goodies, I guess. But I swear, if a mother ever comes up to me and says that I have to cover up because her son is in the room, I think my head may just explode. The gym has family change rooms. I've seen them.

Moral of the story: well, I never did get on that triceps machine because I was so busy seething at the "lady" that I completely forgot about it. So next time, I should just smack her and get it over with? Is that really the moral here? I'm good with that!

Well.

First day of school and I've already managed to embarress myself. This is a new record. Usually it takes at least three or four days before I do/say something really dumb.

So I'm sitting in biochem class, listening to somebody who is probably the worst professor ever (now I know people say that all the time, but believe me - I do not say it lightly). And, of course, I'm sitting in the first row in order to alleviate any temptation that may go into wanting to MSN/email/google someone/anyone because the pentose phosphate pathway is that exciting.

Worst-Professor-on-the-Face-of-This-Snowy-Earth, who is now lecturing in front of me about two millimeters away from my safety bubble of personal space, asks if we had seen a particular shorthand symbol (deH2Ogenation, if you must know) before in biochem 1. And, of course, he looks right at me for the answer. I say no, because, well, no I've never seen that before in my life, mildly clever as it is.

And he's all: NOOOOOOOOOOO?!?

And the rest of the class is all: YEEEES WEEE HAAAAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And he looks at me and says: What the hell's the matter with you? Never went to class?

Well, as a matter of fact, I never DID go to class. I eventually got advanced standing in biochem 1 (not that I ever went to class anyhow) and so I ended up dropping it. Take THAT, buddy!

Not that you can defend yourself in the middle of a lecture on some crazy pathway.

And? His favourite shorthand: NRG.

Gawd help me!

So I'm in class today. A class called Perspectives and Communication. Basically a glorified grammar course and officially the worst class EVER in the history of all classes that came before it and all that shall come after. A class designed to make you fail solely on the basis that you can never find anything that you need to find in the APA Manual.

So anyhow, I'm snuggly ensconced in a corner of the room, safe from the evil darting eye of the Grammar Nazi, MSNing with New Homeowner. During lecture, of course. Good forbid I should actually listen in class.

All of a sudden, in the middle of Grammar Nazi's lecture on the Library Cataloge (by the way, blogger seems to think catalogue is not a word and most definitely misspelled) and how to "Google" in this new "information age", I hear her say "Does anyone remember what a floppy disk is? Anyone?" A scant few people raise their hands, as I slowly and furtively slip my floppy disk back into my bag.

Oh. My. God. Where am I? How OLD am I? Just what the hell is going on here that NO ONE knows what a floppy disk is. Did I miss the flash drive gravy train or something?

Though come to think of it, I was in the computer lab the other day, and I totally heard this girl squeal: OMG!!!! Is that a disk you're using??? That is SOOOOO Old School!

As if!