I am. I even made her note.

(foreword: do NOT read if you are politically correct)


First, she lit some candles and then cleaned a blade, for it had to be super shiny for this occasion. She had always wanted to be in the limelight, and rightfully so; Laura was a likable girl. Not the sort of adolescent to get grounded for stealing booze (and then filling it up with the ever-obvious water, creating condensation) nor for confrontation with peers. She was a pleaser, a laugher, a real good friend. She got third degree burns for pulling salmon out without oven mitts when a roomate was barking an order at her. Laura got the job done, so to speak. She was a real diamond in the rough, sitting on the edge of "limelight".

Because of this pressing desire she would go down with a blaze of glory and red. I will write my name in my blood! She proclaimed, ecstatic with herself for dreaming up the suicidal cliche. I will take all the buttons off my dress and lay them out in some sort of riddle. I could be the next DA VINCI CODE! She screamed. (sadly, Laura still didnt know the Da Vinci Code was a mere hollywood-esque story) Everything was falling into place. All that was left was her suicide note. This would take some pondering.

She was aware that she had to make some sacrifices. Not everyone would be satisfied with her message from the great beyond. Laura secretly confinded in a friend one night that she would love to be a ghost as an occupation( Laura soon learned you cant do that for a "living"). But a kind ghost. The type of ghost that reads to senile old people and stops trains from hitting kittens. Hopefully she could one day live out that dream and explain why she really left. However, the pressing matter of the suicide note still existed.

And then it hit her. The whole reason why she was doing it. Like the Grinch epiphanizing his love for Christmas, Laura knew what she felt.

Dear Everyone;

Im sorry. I did this because Scutt is special.


Love,

Laura.


What? You mean I got honourable mention? RIP Laura...R. I. P.

addictions.

I am addicted to smallville.

Clark Kent is in high school. He loves this raven beauty, Lana Lang, and she has a boyfriend. But its clear that she loves him too. In every episode, some controversial character befriends someone important to Clark and by the end he has saved that 'said" person, yet again.

It's a mediocre character, with mediocre powers on a mediocre budget.

But I love it. So fuck you.



This is what I do with my spare time.

TSX: the scutt exchange

Recent trends in the Market:

The dowjones is up as is the nasdaq...which loosely means I am feeling less lonely and sad about university ending. You can still drink like a 19 year old if you want it bad enough.

I bought stock in a volatile company on Thursday. The company? Was the smiling buddha and it presents an interesting portfolio of bands and new age art. These Bands were high on cocaine, talentless and yet, one of the best shows I have ever seen for 5 bucks. Clemens and I got really drunk and attempted to understand the "electro-funk" that played out before us. The risk was inhernet in the fact that we didnt know where this bar was, and it was beyond cold outside. But the returns, crazy leotard clad people with bike helmets on dancing around, were worth the risk.

I have been comtemplating the purchase of options. They are relatively risk free and allows me to start looking for a new job fit for a big girl. I think the serving world has seen the end of karen the bar wench. You get to a point in this industry.....where you want to snap.


My all time favourite investor came down Saturday nite. We had a meeting about common stock (read: what has happened in our lives recently) and then proceeded to play the shot game and get really hammered. The shot game is only fun with creative people normally cause you get to mix your own concoction like a sorcerer and then name it something rediculous. Kate named hers: "fuck you scutt" and "fuck you scutt part 2" . Because of that, she will no longer be allowed to play. Our meeting continued at the Pheinox night club and after Rage's "killing in the name of" stopped beating out of the speakers, (or hockey nite in canada as I like to call it) we concluded our meeting, passed out and didnt even get to say goodbye to each other. It was a relatively successful meeting.


Needless to say, the TSX is getting renovated. Stocks can only sit idle for a short time before they crash or sky rocket up.

I miss my boyfriend...

Was it better to go to University and now feel hollow and empty in its absence...or not have gone and never know what it was like to be a "student" in the fullest form?

Clearly, in keeping with the ever cliche, "its better to have loved and lost, then never loved at all" theory, Uni was a good choice. We were in love, him and I, for four wonderful years.

However, my heart hurts when I think of not having it anymore. The campus walks; pilot pita; pub crawls; essays: my dates on a Wednesday nite with my boyfriend "Operations Management: the solution for a competitive advantage." AND the partying...oh the partying. The fact that now on a Friday nite I am sitting here, writing this, and talking to Scott Southward about how we have no lives anymore instead of being at phils drinking copious amounts of jagger, makes me sad. And since my heart hurts, and my tummy feels all unsettled, I think its better to have never loved at all....

Although, it is rather self-actualizing to realize that you really just miss getting hammered for 1.75. Now I feel lame and somewhat embarrassed.

terrible terrible terrible....isnt it?
end post.