Monster

Shhhh.
Shut up Asshole.

It began with silence and darkness, attempting to symbolize the dawn of time and how at one point the world was quiet, black; like the beginning of the movie. So the movie rolled and we all sat on the edge of our seats, some of us peering through the awkward bars that restricted our view.

It was my second time seeing it for the low low price of 10 dollars but for him, it was his first. I believe he thought it was going to be a one man show that is all disconnected and SUPER artsy that only pretentious fucks who think they know everything about independent theatre would appreciate. But the "movie"carried on and I eagerly anticipated my favourite parts all over again, while my virgin took it in for the first time. Since Monster was sold out in 15 min and I managed to get on a waiting list, I was doubtful that we would actually make in it to see the afternoon show. So when the theatre manager told us we could enter with 30 seconds to go before curtain, we were estactic. Well, he was. I was scared for now the play was built up so much with waiting, and the high seats in the sky and the sold out poster he kept looking at. I was afraid I would let him down. He wouldnt like it...

With that in mind, you can see why I sat paranoid through most of the show. "Was that a yawn I just heard from him?" "hmm, Im glancing over now and he isnt looking at the stage. This isnt going well at all."

However, during this I realized I was enjoying it much more the second time then the first. I understood the foreshadowing and I could see how adams relationship with his father really functioned. I heard new, clever lines and appreciated the links within the story that much more. If he couldnt see all this too, then too bad for him.

The stage went black. Macivor brought it all together at the end in a nice, psychotic package and we all clapped furiously. I pulled in my breath, awaiting critisim, as he leaned over and whispered in my ear: "That was super good, scutt."

And why wouldnt he think so? I cant help but notice that everything I enjoy and appreciate, he does too. Everything I want to go see and learn from, he does too. Everything we see and dont like, we dont like together. I thought Monster was the bestest of the best for indy theatre, therefore he would too. Its nice to know that you can both be demanding and shellfish, (sometimes him more of a Crustacean than me..) when you both have interests in the EXACT same things.

It becomes really freaky when you realize you are dating your twin brother.

donuts is good, panties was weird.

People (read: close asshole friends) make fun of my curtain in my bachelorette. It is red and wrinkly. It separates the teeny living area from my tiny sleeping area. That said, it is a necessary.

I keep it drawn down when the sun may be too much for sleepy-eyed couples or when I need a makeshift barrier to keep the intolerable heat that emits from my radiator restricted to the living space. So it is not just sexy and fun, it is quite functional.

Unfortunately, none of you like it. Some of you make fun of the fact that I like it so much, and that is rude. Sometimes I am accused of appearing like Elizabeth Taylor because I am hazy and translucent when behind it. In which I start to act out a White Diamonds commerical whilst wearing no pants. This makes your hatred for the curtain that much more powerful.

When its not down, I get hassled because it tied in a large knot, directly in the middle of the doorway, with areas to pass though on either way. It is similar to the way a cat toy that would dangle from a stratching post which then leads to a strong desire for all of you to bat at it. One of you even said that it looks like a rope that you would yank on and panties would fall from some sort of trap door. Assuming it was a throw back to that 70's show episode where eric pulled on a rope and panties fell, I dismissed it..but immediately thought that panties falling would be weird....donuts would be better.

The point of this really isnt how many ways can you turn this vibrant curtain into some different and radical shape, but how frequent the abuse is towards it. Because really guys? It is just a curtain and to find that much material for making fun of the curtain is really just an indication that my friends are pretty much the most amazing and creative people in the world. For they wouldnt be my friends if they werent making fun of my window treatments, trying to make coffee come out of my nose, telling me my pants gave me camel toe, throwing shrimp down my shirt, tripping me in the snow, calling me a dildo and of course, reinforcing daily that, in fact, nobody likes scutt.

I miss you...fuckers.

Nobodylikeslaura@hotmail.com

Just when you think you are down and out..broke as a joke...tanked as a skank, (any more lame rhymes I can list?) you have a weekend like mine and suddenly you are on top of the world....

drinking drinks from a robbed lcbo.
Making rent in one nite.
Watching artistic theatre that makes you go, whoa.
A call for a marketing job.
and...someone from waterloo telling you just how much they miss you and love you in their life.

oh, and careful contemplation of the changing of your email address.

cock_blocker_69

Do you even remember what caused you to create the user name that your email runs on? For most of us it was probably 8 years or so ago (and it was also most likely your very own name). I was called "scutter" through most of high school, therefore when I created my first hotmail account in grade 11, I named it scutterk. Scutter itself was already taken by probably a lesser version of me, alas a "K" compensated for differentiation for the time being.

So we created these very unoriginal emails like laura1212 or john_donkey@ such & such, and they just stuck. We are still using them to this day. In fact, think about how uneasy you would feel should someone ask you to switch your entire online identity (be it email or blog) because its narcissistic or maybe they just hate looking at your name. I would be rather annoyed with this request.

This is coming up because the overpriced internet cafe I linger in once a week has inspired me. I arrive there, eager to go on msn (who says its not addictive? oh wait..I did...7 posts ago) and check my emails, usually only from my father..and usually forwards about some texan finding the virgin mary in a box of chocolates. Three times now, however, when scutterk goes to log into msn messenger...there is already an addy in the box, paitiently awaiting a password. The email address I see is cock_blocker_69 followed by a very sexy picture above of whom I assumed was cock blocker himself. great abs!

Now I dont need to remind anyone that I live in the area of town where gays come to be more gay. And that after seeing 2 gay men physically fight in a cafe and watching them makeout shortly after, you get desensitized to the whole hammed up scene that gays play into. But that email really got to me. This is your identity. This is how people, family included, communicate with you. Do you really need to be so crude. YES, you do (I thought, allowing my imagination get the better of me) if, in fact, it was how you came out.

I can see little Johnny, aged 16, trying to come up with an email handle at this new phenonmenon "HOTMAIL!" John@ was taken. John_69@ was taken. damn. How is he going to come up with a cool freaky deaky name now? but then it hit him. He has been repressing his desires for some time now. Maybe this cyber identity would be the one way that little Johnny could show the world that he was not hetero. Cock_blocker_69 was the answer to a drawn-out inner battle of his sexual repression for the same gender. And forever, whilst typing on messenger and forwarding emails to his parents (for I assumed little johnny had no other email addy's on the go) he conveys loving cock, blocking cock and he would definately be into 69'ing.... with cock. Johnny has shown society what he's into. And thats pretty fucking cool.

Maybe I should change my email address to "Iamnotemo" and you will all get a window into my soul. My own nickname for my hotmail is too generic and perhaps its time to switch it up. Although then what would I be without belligerent people screaming "scutterk" outside my window at night? I would be nothing...

the cyber world is crazy shit folks.

common response.

January is depressing. We all knew this. Every year we reluctantly anticipate its arrival after a sea of lights, presents and nog in December and every year I find myself depressed.

This year is by far the worst. Normally I would be gearing up for a brand spanking new semester with sassy profs and lines at the bookstore, but this year, life is carrying on like it did before January, before the BIG CHRISTMAS BREAK! And its a sour taste of whats to come for the rest of my grown-up life.

That, in itself, is depressing.

Coupled with disliking your job, missing your roomates to pee on, and feeling fiscally unsound, January is really just a whine factory for me as I burden everyone with my feelings of inadequacy.

Some of you give advice. Some of it is bad...most of it is funny.. But almost all of it is the same question: "that sucks scutt, but how is ______?" (fill in blank with love interest for the moment). It seems that since people know you are somewhat involved with a dance-challenged man everything is supposed to be okay. "Sure you are down and out, scutt but at least you have a special someone to keep you smiling amd sexually satisfied. I know thats what gets me through the day."

It is wrong that I never saw life that way? For me, being happy (in general or in January) isn't the cause of some guy who turns my crank. It isn't having someone close or feeling loved. Of course liking someone is a fantastic feeling and you wouldn't necessarily turn it down but for some reason, situational depression isnt allowed to be true depression when you are dating someone. You aren't really allowed to wallow in self pity when you have someone awesome in your life. AND that, that is morbidly unfair.

Well, not morbid. Morbid was the wrong word. Stupidly unfair? Why can't I be low for a bit because I am unhappy with me, and choices I made, regardless of whether I have a boyfriend or partner or donkey? Why does the only reassurance for me getting through this metaphorical valley from people is "at least I have him." Yes, he is a slice of why I feel happy. He does not make me happy and complete with ME though. No one should be your everything and no one should think that the "you're in a relationship! SMILE!" advice is sufficent. And yet, its the only thing I am hearing.

I hate January and I really hate whining. But mostly, I hate the fact that I am getting jipped on quality life advice and sympathy from friends because I am having sex.

You are all perverts!