I've got a couple more hours to study before my very first exam, which really isn't an exam at all. I've got it pretty easy, it's a couple short essays on Sylvia Plath, followed by a work free evening to review Oedipus, and finish the rest of those Holocaust survivor books I should have read weeks ago.

I've been the absolute queen of procrastination this year, I thought it was borderline last semester, waking up at 8am to prepare a 1 1/2 hour women's studies presentation at 10, busting into poetry class half an hour late to hand in my portfolio final, going to acting stoned at least four times. But that was just the foam on the latte, my friends.

I haven't read ANYTHING this semester, if it had anything to do with an assignment, i didn't even *buy* my bio book, i've been coasting on pure charm since August 28th. And i'm starting to hear it from the professors, because that's why I pay so much to go to school, so Dr. _____ can shit on my face in a "more personal setting". "You're the best writer i've seen in class all semester, i know your grades aren't reflecting your abilities". When did grades *ever* relect someone's abilities? ::::::::::::::As Falkner climbs out from his urn and shakes his dick at a 4 year old girl::::::::::::::::And i'm not even going to get started on the pointlessness of MLA formatting, i really can't, there's green foam flowing from the sides of my jaw, i'm going to literally explode...

We smoked a blunt in the Denny's parking lot, but by the time we got inside, someone had already taken "our" table, and "our" waitress wasn't there (shout out to Deanna, what, what?). I got me a big ol chocolate milkshake, because i was officially off of the diet for the day before, and the two days after my birthday. Joe came with us for the first time without J-Dawg in a very long time. I'm glad they realized they've been acting a little too "Paul and Linda" for all of the stoner's patience, which is slim for anyone who smokes every other day(i'm cutting down, mom!...my mother doesn't even know how to turn on the computer...she bought a crock pot a couple days ago and i haven't seen her since...). I got to see my Joe, the one I fell in love with in highschool, the one who made me caramel and cookies and cream sundaes at 1am, the one who took me to Amvets every other day to buy birthday presents for all of the stoners *before* they were all stoners. I still stand by the fact that he is by far, the funniest man i have ever met. He really solidified my reasoning last night in the smoking room of the worst chain restaurant, in the history of the United States. He could most definitely write with us, he'd be a huge asset to the troupe, but he needs to be able to concentrate on comedy, and i'm not sure if he's prepared to give up everything at this point. Angelator and I have been cloudy for weeks now, it's all finally starting to come together. In a couple of months, anything that was important in Buffalo, will become a side show to our parade...

We big pimped in the Grand-Am up to Toronto on Saturday, and i think i got all of my Christmas shopping done. We left the city around 7, and decided to make it at least past Burlington before we stopped for food, which I recommend to anyone going to Toronto, unless you're in the mood to find a legal (ask angelator "hi, i think my car's been stolen", as if she was ordering a pizza) parking spot on a saturday night on Queen St (a ha...a ha ha ha...sigh), and you're Michael Jackson or something, i think he's really the only one that can afford a piece of steak uptown, with the exception of my wife July, of course...she's going to buy me an Escalade :)

Although i'm not really a drinker, i found it customary to order my first legal drink, as the golden age in the provinces is 19. I got myself a strawberry daquiri, and just as i was about to get myself another one, i saw liquor and ice cream in one magical glass. By the time our food actually came, i think i lost it. I'm not really used to feeling that way, so i was literally popped off of two girl drinks. Apparently, i complimented the waiter on his looks, in a rather crude way, *made* angelator leave him a 20 dollar tip, and stole the table cloth, while middle class Canadian women watched across the room in disbelief.

And i guess i have to mention this, because, i just do...

We settled in the "bar" area, waiting for a free table, taking in the cancer sticks, and what not. There were these six little boys, ranging from about 3-7, all decked out in their respective hockey jackets, preparing themselves for Junior B atop the bar stools, their feet far from the ground. And *NO ONE* found it odd or even remotely unhealthy for young boys to be in the "bar area", filled with smoke and young couplings on third dates. The parents were seated in a table across the room, and one of the mother's would announce any fight that appeared on any of the four televisons that we're tuned into different NHL games. And the little boys sneakers would tense up, and their little fists would flare, and everyone yelled along with them.

I know my money goes farther there, I know i'm the one with the accent even ten minutes away from my doorstep, but you rarely see a true cultural division in Toronto, it's like the little Canadian metropolis that could pass for another big city, like if someone decided to pack up the CN tower, and the stadium, and Massey Hall, bubble wrap the business men, and the silver sellers on queen st., throwing them all in enormous boxes, and shipping them to, say, Poughkeepsie, no one would know the difference...except for people from Poughkeepie of course, they'd have to stop doing it with their family members.

you just have to get lost in Etobicoke one day, drive to Guelph and sit in a little bar at the edge of town, and just open your fucking ears...I don't know why it took my first drink to realize this, maybe i'll only drink in Burlington, ON, from now on...