Our dirt bikes bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right, they're better than yours.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Je suis fatigue

I always thought the word fatigué was hilarious when I was little, because it kind of souded like "fat and gay." Really, I still kind of do.

Anyway, sorry it's been so long since I last posted. A strange combination of not sleeping enough, going to class, taking naps, getting roped into spending hours in malls, and drinking means I haven't even checked my e-mail since Sunday. I'm also totally exhausted, if that's any kind of excuse—turns out I'm not really cut out for getting five hours of sleep night after night after night. However, this clearly isn't my fault at all, since I obviously can't reasonably be expected to give up partying just because I have class at 8:30 every day, right?

So, let's see, what's new? Well, I was getting a little frustrated earlier in the week with the people I've been hanging out with, since they're really not into partying and, well, apparently I'm a raging alcoholic (at least in comparison). This really manifested itself on Saturday, when I sat around with two other girls "talking" in our res for the entire night. This was particularly frustrating considering Sunday is the only day of the week when we're guaranteed to have nothing to do in the morning. Sunday was more of the same—I went out with the same two girls for brunch at this restaurant called Le Cochon Dingue (The Crazy Pig) in Quartier Petit Champlain (the oldest commercial district in North America!), which was actually quite good. The area was really interesting too—yet another place I need to come back to on my own when I'm not incredibly irritated at the inefficiency with which Joanna does absolutely everything (talk, walk, shop, etc). The rest of Sunday involved such exciting tasks as doing laundry and homework, and by Monday afternoon, after spending more than three hours in a mall very slowly working our way towards buying bus passes, I was feeling a tad on the murderous side. I mean, this girl is nice and everything, but holy shit. If I hear one more goddamn story about how much money your boyfriend makes, or I have to watch you very carefully examine every single item of clothing in every store in this mall that's exactly like every other mall in the country one more time, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown.

So, anyway, needless to say, I was relieved when I ran into Matt Wildcat and those other guys from the U of A and we exchanged phone numbers. Unfortunately, they really don't like Joanna either, so I was a little worried that I'd made myself into a social pariah by associating myself with her. Luckily, they called, and after a brief conversation in which we established our mutual dislike for her, a bunch of us headed into Centre Ville to check out the Festival d'Été, a big, two-week-long music festival including ZZ Top (!), Simple Plan (!), Billy Talent (!), and, more excitingly, the New York Dolls and Calexico, along with endless Francophone groups I've never heard of. The music that night was pretty terrible (blues sung, believe it or not, by a midget with one arm and one leg), so we took off after a little while and went back to Degobar, the ridiculous dance club we were at on Friday night, for a drink on the patio. This reinforced how much Edmonton sucks, as, even though it was Monday night, the club and the streets were teeming with people until at least 2:30, when we finally made it home (this was prolonged by a detour to the Plains of Abraham, which, when I discovered they were only a block away from where we were sitting, I made Matt take me to. The Plains of Abraham! Right in the middle of the city! Just outside the old walls! Cannons! Grass! Trees!). Anyway, this eventually resulted in us getting kind of lost and walking halfway back to Laval before we could find a cab to flag down. Good times.

Yesterday wasn't nearly as history nerd-tastic, unfortunately. A little bit of class, a little bit of napping, a little bit of homework, a little bit of lying to Joanna so I could go to the pub on campus (called Le Pub, originally enough) without her—the usual. The highlight was probably listening to some 18-year-old from Newfoundland screaming about how much she hated Québec and the Québecois, and how she couldn't understand why anyone bothered travelling or experiencing other cultures when they have everything they could ever possibly need or want at home in St. John's. It was funny, but incredibly depressing. Oh, and meeting two other girls from the U of A who were openly mocking me—and by "openly mocking" I mean "laughing obnoxiously in my face"—for daring to suggest that saying "Je voudrais ..." is the polite way to ask for something here (being from Edmonton, of course, they know everything there is to know about manners in Québec). Oh, and, of course, the really, really drunk, old guy who was trying to tell us about some concert he went to in the '70s, mostly by pretending he was playing the trombone.

Other than that, things are fine, except for the incredible lack of sleep. Class is going well (although it's a little easier than I'd like so far—I am here to learn something, after all), I don't want to kill Joanna quite as much as I did ... the usual. I promise I'll start posting more often soon, so keep reading and things.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Dave (Berry) said...

Ah, bonding over mutual hatred--is there anything better, really?

Oh, also, I'm pretty sure a midget with one arm and one leg couldn't do anything but play the blues. And what blue blues they would be.

9:00 PM

 
Anonymous Ash said...

Why is it such a fuckin' small world? Matt Wildcat is really good friends with my best friend. In fact, they used to date.

WEIRD.

10:52 AM

 
Anonymous Heather said...

All girls suck, Kristine. You should know that by now. Also: come to Toronto already, you bitch. Furthermore: what's your number in Quebec?

11:54 AM

 
Blogger Kristine said...

You know, I genuinely tried to be friends with these girls this time. I guess I'm just not cut out for friendships based around gossip and shopping. And I'd come to Toronto in a second if I had a spare $600 to spend on the plane ticket. Why don't you come to Québec? We'll break into the Chateau Frontenac and stay there for free.

Also, my number here is (418) 656-7777 x13588. I hope everyone on the internet calls me now.

11:47 AM

 

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