Tag Archives: wordplay

Scar Buddy!

Man, I totally discovered my scar buddy last night.  Sasha from the club and I have the same surgical scars on our arms from breaking our arms in various gnarly ways.  The scars are, like, two long straight scars, one either side of the forearm, where the doctors go in to put the stupid bones back together.  I have seriously never seen anyone else with these scars, so I was pretty excited.  Sasha broke his arm in a being cool in high school football, while I was an idiot child who fell off a hay bale.  We also have similar knee scars.  I’d say three scar match-ups make scar buddies.  As such, Sasha and I are scar buddies.  I think that’s only a thing you can have if you’ve lived a certain kind of life.  A poorly thought-out life.

Oh, we had some fun exercising last night.  Some switching from high knees (jumping-as-high-as-you-can-and-tucking-your-knees-to-your-chest) to squats (squatting).  One day, I will get trapped in an old school Super Mario game, and I will rock the crap out of it, and it will be all thanks to my constant practice at jumping and squatting, courtesy of Gerald’s kickboxing class.  “Oh yeah, here’s a block, I’mma jump up and break it.  Now here’s a ledge, just let me squat down and slide under it.  Not even breaking a sweat, hell yeah.”

We also did human leg presses, which I really love.  These are like a normal leg press you would do with weights, but weights are hard to find, so instead you use a person!  The funniest thing about these is, for me, I have a harder time being the weight than I do being the lifter.  It’s a real trust exercise!  You can’t actually have any of your weight on your feet, so you’re just barely balanced on the tips of your toes and trusting your partner won’t let you fall.  I trust, I trust, but I’m a huge baby about that stuff!  Another thing about this exercise is that is wasn’t designed for the ladies, so to speak.  There is the possibility I had a footprint in my cleavage when I got home, is what I’m saying.  It’s faded!  Maggie also said she could feel my ribs shifting around, which is so delightfully weird.  I kept getting told to engage my abs.  I’m told that a lot.  I think, really, I should just do that automatically, all the time.  Kickboxing, yoga, at the grocery store, sitting in class.  Just Shannon, engaging her abs.

We did a lot of Thai kicks, which I love and got some good pointers on so I’m better at now.  Thai kicks are like a round kick, but with the shin contacting instead of the foot, and they are very fun.  (I would find a video, but we’re getting into kickboxing/Muay Thai distinctions that the YouTube search algorithms are just not equipped to deal with.)  Anyway, basically with a Thai kick you can kick a person from the same range that you can punch them from, and that is just gravy.  Those Thais think of everything!

I have looking through my tags, and I noticed a lot of my entries are tagged “shenanigans”.  If I were naming this blog now, I probably would’ve gone for some sort of pun, along the lines of “Shannon-igans”.  Which is probably why it’s good that I’m not naming this blog  now.  I would’ve had my internetting license taken away right then and there.

Oh wow, in other blog news, I might start doing some sort of weekly linkspam of all those ridiculous links I put up on Facebook, since they are apparently a source of excellent time-wastitude and not everyone reading this on my Facebook and anything I can do to spread the link/timewasting love is cool with me.  If I put them in a separate post, I’ll make sure they don’t post automatically to Facebook, just because a Facebook update that the blog post of all my links that I put up on Facebook last week is just too tedious for thought.  Oh man, oh man, but I will value-add.  I will tell you the best parts of the articles to read.  “Just skip to the middle, that’s the cool part.”  I’ve been holding off on that, but forget it, I’m just gonna do that from now on.  “Paragraph three is where it’s at.  Just past the picture.”

I have a week and a half left of this graduate degree, then I will be done!  Done like dinner, stick a fork in me!  So much homework, so I am blogging.  No energy for shenanigans.  Not even one shenanigan.  Must finish projects.

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Maple Sugar Shack!

Went on a road trip up to the Sugar Moon Farm with Kathleen, Monica and Naomi for the purpose of eating maple syrup, with perhaps some things to wrap the maple syrup in.  Oh my.  We did the ‘pouring the hot maple syrup on the snow’ thing, which is the best thing ever.  I remember from my halcyon childhood, we would make it spell out our initials or whatever, but in this case we took a popsicle stick and made, like, a lollipop of pure, warm maple syrup with some snow mixed in, and it was pretty much just bliss, right there.  I got pancakes with maple syrup, and a hot chocolate with rum and maple whipped cream, and a biscuit with maple butter.  You would think this would be too much maple, but you would be wrong.  If I die by drowning in a vat of maple syrup, you will know that I died happy.

We also took a tour of the maple shack.  Sadly, we’re not quite in season, so it wasn’t really functioning.  That meant the Evaporating Room, rather than being a warm womb of maple steam, was actually just a freezing shack.  Not that I was looking forward to a maple steam bath OR ANYTHING!  The tour was really aimed at kids, so the four Masters students politely stood by quietly and learned about maple.

We also tried to go to the Anna Swan Museum in Tatamagouche, but it was closed, so instead we went to Big Al’s Restaurant, which had an Anna Swan exhibit and also food, because we totally weren’t planning on stuffing our faces completely full at the Sugar Shack an hour later, no.  We learned many important things about giants, human nature, and how Shannon just will not tolerate people mispronouncing Tatamagouche.  My theory is that people pronounce it like it’s French, when actually it’s Mi’kmaq.  And I just looked it up on Wikipedia, and it actually is from a Mi’kmaq word, so my half-assed folk etymology panned out!  Whoo!  Also, Wikipedia says I pronounce it right.  Justified by Wikipedia!  Man, that should be a new internet acronym.  jbw: Justified by Wikipedia.  I bet it’ll have a lot of application, once it catches on.

In other news, I have worked out Not At All this week.  Wait, no!  I did carry a table piggyback-style that Kathleen and Monica found on the side of the road back to their house after brunch the other day.  Does that sentence work?  I guess, more importantly, did you get all the elements from it, Internet?  Fine, good.  I carried a table down the street for a while.  It was a super-cute fifties-looking thing, and really little, just for two people.  And by the side of the road!  Surprisingly easy to carry once I got it into a good position on my back.  Piggybacks, man, I tell you, they make everything better.  I was really tempted to try to get on the bus with it, though.  “This is my brother.  He’s disabled.

Other than that, Reading Week, I’m all over the place, no working out to speak of, eating candy and pancakes all day.  Oh my, this is not good.  Well, I’ll get back to the club soon enough!

I hung out with my nephew and made good on a promise to play board games with him.  I had expected Trouble, because Trouble rules, but apparently a six-year-old is capable of losing a Trouble game (how?) so instead we played the Pokemon board game, and I got my ass so kicked.  I was baffled as to how Tyler could be beating me so badly at a game that was all chance, but my brother just told me that Ty cheats, the clever little thing, so now I feel better.  Of course, now the question is how a six-year-old was cheating me without my noticing.  I’m stupid no matter how you cut it, is the basic issue.

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I chess, I am chessing, I have chessed

So, I chessed for the first time at Erica’s party last night!  (You guys, if we all use chess as a verb, it’ll totally catch on!)  I won, but only because my teacher/opponent, the very nice and patient Nanci, gave me lots of tips and do-overs.  I had, like six pieces left on the board, and I’d taken one of hers.  I’m still in the very learning stages, where the pieces have the names: Diagonal Guy, Straight Guy, and Horse.  I figured out pawn, queen, and king, but they can have silly names, too: Easy Metaphor, Doing-Whatever Badass, and Valuable Liability.

Last day of class tomorrow!  Thank you, Jesus, for having your birthday just precisely when I am finished with this crap.  Ah, but I kid.  I’m read a new article about robots today, and it’s totally making it into my presentation tomorrow night.  I am just excited about robots.

Oh yeah!  Mary and I came up with the greatest sci-fi idea ever!  Because, you see, robots are being programmed with ethics.  And robots can also analyze lots of data, and they’re super-efficient, and they don’t need bonuses to pay for gold houses full of cocaine and whores.  Anyway, so robots should run the banking industry.  And that’s how robots take over the world.  We give it to them, because they’re better than Bernie Madoff!  So, a sci-fi show about banking robots.  Ethical banking robots.  This is the next Battlestar Galactica, right here.

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Men are all like this and women are all like this…

A discussion the other day on the nature of men and women compared to punctuation.  Women, you see, are shaped more like question marks, but act more like exclamation points.  Men are shaped more like exclamation points, but act more like question marks.  I’m like a stand-up comedian from the eighties, but one who talks about punctiation, so a stand-up comedian who gets smacked with a liquor bottle by a heckler.  My point is, I love interrobangs: ‽  Johnny suggested I go around looking like a question mark and smacking shit up like an exclamation point.

Studying for the Systems test in the common room yesterday.  Everyone was looking over definitions from the textbook, and I took the opportunity to wax poetic about pixilated and betweenity (it means indecision!).  I… I was probably not being helpful.

Man, I’m already jonesing for my Thursday/Saturday kickboxing, and it’s only Wednesday.  December is going to be rough~

I had my last LiveHelp shift on Monday!  This is internet chatting reference librarianing, for those who don’t know.  There’s a lot of people telling me “the thing isn’t working”, and I ask what, and they’re like, “I can’t find the box my prof told me about” and I just… and that’s pretty much it.  I actually solve these problems a lot of the time, which is amazing.

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Caught me yellow-handed!

Yesterday was the last day of Dal kickboxing (though I’m still going to the club all through December).  We had a little graduation thing for everyone getting new handwrappers, and I got my yellows!   Yay!  Yellow is, like, the first colour you can get that actually means anything, but still, I’m happy.

We did these crazy ab workouts that I won’t bother describing, but trust me, I am in pain today.  It takes a lot to make abs hurt, too, so this is pretty exciting/excruciating.

We’re practically in the last week of classes!  Whoo!  The homework is bearing down on me like some kind of… bear… riding a shark… strapped to a train… on a comet.  And the comet is made out of nuclear disasters.  Actually, I’m probably fine, and gearing up for all the Christmas parties that are happening soon.  (And desperately finishing homework.)

Anyway, must get back to that bear-shark-train-comet-nuclear-disaster that is my homework.  After my last post, I wanted to change the subtitle of this blog to Pixilated Interrobang, because their my two favourite words and they sum me up pretty well (a slightly drunk, excited question).  But now I think bear-shark-train-comet-nuclear-disaster sounds pretty appealing.  Why must everything thought I think be pure, solid gold?  Such a fardels I labor under!  What?  Oh yeah, homework.  Also, I’m at actual work.  Away I go!

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My Bag

Things I found in my bag today in class:

  • chili
  • a towel
  • emergency rain poncho
  • multi-tool
  • earplugs
  • sushi take-out menu
  • sweat band
  • nail-clippers
  • spoon

What I was actually looking for:

  • pencil

I… I didn’t have a pencil.  I’ve actually seriously lightened my bag-load since the summer.  I took out the sewing kit and emergency overnight supplies.  What will I do in case of zombies?

Who wants a word of the day?  Pixilated!  You think you know the word, but maybe you don’t?  It means, like, bewildered, amusingly whimsical, slightly insane, or kind of drunk.  The etymology is: like a pixie.  It’s totally my new favourite word.  “Capricious” can suck it.  Anyway, I want to start using pixilated in conversations, but if discreet/discrete gives me troubles I’ll probably never get away with calling a drunk pixilated.

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Low-key Week!

I learnt something new today, because I was all, “I had twelve discrete dreams last night” Nikki was like, “Don’t you mean distinct” and I was all “I KNOW WHAT I SAID” and anyway the something I learnt was that the discrete I meant and the discreet she thought I meant are spelled differently, which you know because I just spelled them, but I didn’t know because I was saying them and I can’t see sounds NOW CAN I, INTERNET?

One of these dreams, by the way, was that stupid thing where I dream I wake up and go to the bathroom, then I wake up and go to the bathroom, but that’s a dream, so I wake up and go to the bathroom, which is a dream… and you see how this is going.  I was pretty annoyed.  In one iteration, possibly the reality but who even knows, I was ranting to myself, like, “I could be fighting Flying Battle Slugs high above Mega Tokyo with my Rainbow Gun, but no, I’m stuck in a loop of the most mundane thing I do.”  My subconscious is such a tease, some days.  Why introduce Flying Battle Slugs and not develop them?

Mom came up yesterday with sister-in-law Brittany and cute nephews Tyler and Gabe.  I got to eat out at a decent place in the first time in forever, which was fun.  I don’t have the stuff to cook properly for myself, so it’s been a lot of peanut butter sanwiches and spaghetti, supplemented by apples and granola bars.  I need to make peace with getting groceries on days other than Tuesday, or I will get rickets.  Oh!  I switched to that “good” peanut butter, the kind that’s just peanuts.  I’m still waiting for it to stop tasting like death.  My big problem, really, is spreadability.  It doesn’t spread!  Bread is ripped, words are said, war crimes are committed.

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