*pops out of a cake!*

Happy birthday, Rita!

Twenty-four birthday spanks have been gift-wrapped and are on their way to you.



electronic_emo, you get nothing for your birthday but off-key singing in a couple Celtic languages. Because that's all you deserve (but also happy birthday!).

These things always weird me out by being strangely coherent - more coherent than half the crap I have to read for class.

Put your music player on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results. The first line of the twenty-first song is the title.

When Somebody Loves You
Carry on, my wayward son,
there's a song that I hear every morning:
"It takes two."

The Nova Scotia winds blow my love to me,
there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
Just one year of love is better than a lifetime alone,
away from Halifax's muddy creeks and Canada's fields of pine.

Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup -
saying "I love you",
"That dude looks a lady",
"There's a little girl I know, you might know her too."

This thing called love, I just can't handle it:
"Sound the pibroch loud and high,
put your dreams away for another day."
Purple haze all in my brain,
I didn't want to say it - much too obvious.

In the town of Athol, one Charlie Lanigan battered away 'til
half-past twelve, and I'm watching the late show all on my own:
"Here's a story of a girl, who grew up lost and lonely -
it was twenty years ago today."

Drunken Girl (outside window): WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
Me (inside Maddie's room): WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?
Mitch (from inside his room): I WANNA ROCK!

Have wicked insomnia caused by overplanning the future. But I did get some things figured out:

• my last exam is April 20th, although I might try and get it pushed up.
• my last major assignment is due in April 17th.
• if I leave for Halifax on April 18th, that gives me two solid weeks of job-searching time
• there are lots of possible jobs.
• there are lots of CSR and admin assistant jobs as well.
• I have at least three work-related references.
• Pride Week is the last week of June, how sweet would it be to get married then?

So now I'm torn between going to bed and trying to sleep or updating my résumé. Or do my Welsh homework.

I'm currently kicked back, full of fast food, watching JAG, balancing my laptop as I work feverishly on the big presentation I have to give the day after tomorrow, and with my feet up on a footstool made of a milk crate and a pillow.

Today is a good day to write.

LOOKIT THE ADORABLE THAT MACBEEF HAS WROUGHT FOR ME:



Is that not the cutest thing ever? So cute I had to show it twice.

Had a really weird dream last night. I think I have to stop watching Lost before bed.

Speaking of Lost! ( This is spoilery if you haven't seen Season 4, but I will cut it anyway. )

But speaking of Desmond, he was in this weird dream. So first I dream that I'm with some group of people and we're on a tour. It starts as Toronto and then turns into London. I realise that for some reason, they've built a dome over part of the city. Union Station is at the middle of the dome. And I am really upset by this piece of stupidity, so I start ranting away about the dome. And then one of the people on QI (which is now a call-in show) starts ranting at me about how my rant is totally off-base and I'm being ridiculous (how did the man in the television hear me anyway, is what I want to know) and then he starts in about how I'm blaming it all on equity and it isn't a new invention and I was arguing that yeah, it kinda is.

So after arguing with the television (I think it was Phil Jupitus?), we all go back to our hotel which is haunted (part of the dream was figuring out how to release the ghosts) and right across the street from this heritage building which had belonged to my grandmother. So I wanted to go back in and see the place where I had spent a lot of time as a kid. But they wouldn't let me and I was really upset, so Desmond tried to cheer me up by saying that we could go swimming and then stripped down - because apparently I hadn't yet realising in the dream that we were in a relationship and I was a gay male.

My subconscious is a strange, strange place.

Things I should be doing:
- revising the third draft of my thesis
- working on the Irish Bardic presentation I'm giving on Monday
- working on the thesis presentation I'm giving on Friday
- finding a topic and texts for Medieval Gaelic paper
- writing poems for Creative Writing final project
- working on Irish Bardic final paper
- tidying my room

Things I am doing:
- knitting a sock
- watching To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar

Huh. I think I need to somehow reconcile these two lists.

Leonid the laptop is back where he belongs - in my lap. What a way to start a wonderful day. The only time I plan to be in Halifax in the next month? Happens to be the very day that my laptop is ready for pick-up.

Went to the big city yesterday with the Tranny Society - which is not as cool as you think, 'Tranny' in this case is short for 'Transfer' - and it was a very, very good day. Better than spending it moping around pining for my lost love (not the laptop). Took some terrible pictures of my friends sleeping in the backseat. Went to the Split Crow, oldest pub in Halifax - it was given the first liquor license in New Scotland (before New Scotland was translated into Latin), 174something. It was totally packed with what looked like all the high school students in Halifax who could get their hands on a fake ID, but the food wasn't bad. Sat next to a rather stunned Tranny who needed some hints to figure out the riddle of me saying "no" when she asked if there was a man (she saw my claddagh) and then telling her that I'm engaged. And we hadn't even started drinking yet.

Wandering around the Maritime Museum with my friends was hilarious. Lots of silly pictures of them pretending to be in boats and hitting on statues of sailors and threatening figureheads of St Patrick and pretending to drown. Fabulous time. Adorable parrot.

And in the realm of om noms - brewery! We went on a tour of the Alexander Keith's Brewery. Om. nom. It was one of those slightly comical tours where you "travel back in time" to learn about the history of the place. A very wide-eyed woman with a terrible accent that was supposed to be old-timey Nova Scotia led us into the "dining room" where we watched a video about Alexander Keith before we were supposed to meet him. Of course, Mr. Keith was late. So we learned about the brewing process from a very excited "apprentice" and then we headed into the Stag's Head pub to try some beer and sing some songs. And of course, it was pub songs so I knew them. Oy. But free beer! Which I shouldn't have drunk because I'm on antibiotics. But it was free beer. I had a glass of the red and a glass of stout. The red was yummy. We had to slam them back, though, because we really got rushed out. We had fun with the three reenactors, though, because they kept saying "Slainte mhath!" and butchered the pronunciation on "Ciad mile failte", and we kept answering in Gaidhlig. They just stared at us.

Apparently "proper thing" is some kind of slogan? They said it every six or seven minutes.

I bought a thundermug as a present to myself.

And then.

Then . . . there was Watchmen. Which will be another post when I get my thoughts together, and this one is already eleven miles long.

Rita's here! Rita's heeere, finally, at last, it is so unreeeeeal and omgyay and she's here and she's in the tub right now so we are not cuddling but I have had two days of cuddles and wheee and yay! Busy couple of days, randomly all events must occur in the first few days of her visit, because we have nothing (except a couple hang-outs with friends) planned for next week. So looking forward to it. Omg yay.

Also, laptop died. The OS ran away and hid, because apparently it was all pouty that I was spending time with other things. I am taking it to the Buy More tomorrow, because it conveniently happens that the only Buy More in Nova Scotia is on the way to where we were going tomorrow anyway. Tomorrow is our daytrip into Halifax. We've already done wings, a double date to the theatre (Romeo and Juliet), ridiculous domesticity, the movie theatre is actually showing something I want to see. She is apparently magic, because my surgery wound is healing ridiculously quickly now. All in all? Damn good to be me right about now.

Fame! I'm gonna live forever. Well, we're gonna live forever. Celtic Studies at StFX is gonna be internet famous by this time next week.

Friday we spent a few hours recording ridiculous Welsh songs and rhymes and, after some futzing with titles and editing, le voila. We have our very own YouTube channel, with our very own YouTube subscribers and everything.

CelticStudiesX!</center>

1. Reply to this post and I'll assign you a letter.
2. List (and upload, if you feel like it) 5 songs that start with that letter.
3. Post them to your journal with these instructions.

bellatemple gave me S:

1. Safety Dance - Men Without Hats
2. Sosban Fach - Clwb Cymru
3. She Believes in Me - Me First & The Gimme Gimmes
4. Sunset Boulevard - John Barrowman
5. Senorita - Bond

Back to the intellectual salt mines.

Curling is on in an hour! A Very Duggar Wedding is on tonight! Miss America is on right now!

I am such a couch potato. Or a bed potato, because I don't have a couch. I should have gone to get food or something, because all I have is licorice and chips. Om nom sour cream and onion.

Miss Michigan has such a strong accent. And Miss Iowa's boyfriend thinks her tractor is sexy. These are ridiculous introductions. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, from the state that brought you the universal measure for keeping time, I am Miss Mississippi!" "Where country roads will always take you home, I am your mountain momma, Miss South Virginia!" Miss Texas believes that the higher the hair, the closer to God. Some of these girls actually aren't all that attractive. And they're wearing way too much bronzer. Miss Virgin Islands is smokin'.

When did this entry turn into a running commentary on the Miss America pageant?

Rita looks a thousand times better than Miss Tennessee. I call shenanigans!

CLINTON KELLLYYYYYYYYYYYY!

. . . holy crap I just fangirled.

I think I need to go lie down.

I want a new mood theme. Any suggestions?

I'm tired.

I'm very, very tired.

When I first went to bed an hour ago, I was so tired that I literally could not see straight. Couldn't read the words on my screen. There was music pumping from next door, but all the occupants of that suite had gone out for the night. So I tried to fall asleep to Barbie Girl and Lisa Brown. And I almost succeeded. And then the girls came back. And I thought, "Great, it is three-fucking-a.m., they're gonna turn off the music and go to bed."

Silly Denise.

No.

Instead, I get Humping and Dumping: Coady MacNeil Edition. Outside my door. Against my door. Among the stellar bytes of loud drunken conversation I have overheard in the last half hour have been:

"I'm so, so sorry, but I really can't do this, I kinda totally have a thing for your roommate and I'm so so sorry."

"I will pay you six million dollars to open this door, right now." (N.B. 'this door' being my door)

"What the fuck is a penis proctor? Penis the proctor is on duty, that makes no fucking sense. Is it like a guy named Penis or a giant fucking penis as the proctor?" (Wash, rinse, repeat several more times)

"She is so gonna bang you tonight, dude!"

"Hold on, I'll be right there, I forgot panties!"

And many more.

I just want to sleep. Please, let me sleep.

I hate writing. I hate writing so badly some times. I hate it like you can only hate something you love. It makes me scream, it makes me cry, it makes me sink into depression for days, it drives me up the wall, and I still love it so much.

I hate it.

No one guessed Garibaldi/Lennier.

I have decided that this term is surreal. After that class on sodomy, yesterday we ended up making jokes about Jason's little slip of the tongue when talking about the Annals of the Four Masters. Coming soon to a back room near you: Anals of the Four Masters, starring Mitch Argyle. A Gille-cluich production. And yesterday's Welsh class was mostly spent dicking around on the BBC's Addysg section. Our homework was to play flash games and watch little movies of animated druids and bog men (although it was really adorable that the druid's antlers turn into question marks when he's confused).

This tradition has started. Usually just after Medieval Gaelic Religious Texts, Jason, Michel, and I end up gravitating towards the major crossroads for campus, in front of the library. And we'll chat. Today we stood there for an hour (I still can't feel my toes). We talk about classes, we talk about movies, we talk about books, we're massive nerds. We come up with ideas for comics and cartoons and videos and movies. We twist and pervert everything the Celtic department has taught us into our own warped creations, like mad Scottish scientists.

Today's crack? Bond. Seumas Bond. Double-oh-seachd. Scotland's greatest weapon. Thunderbarra, From Alba with Love, The Loch is Not Enough, Sporrans Are Forever, Never Say Llyfr Again.

Bond sheep. Picture a sheep trotting out of the water of a loch with a knife strapped to its hind leg, shaking the water out of its fleece. Sexily.

Poisoned-tipped kilt pin. Sporran loaded with lock picks, plastic explosives, and small rockets. A horse with an invisibility shield. Rocket-loaded saddle. All provided, of course, by the Welsh tech wiz Ll. Although it was pointed out that the Welsh Q would be P.

That last joke was super-nerdy.

I love being a Celtic Studies student. I just couldn't be this happy in any another discipline, I know it.

Also, not funny, but this site is really cool: Irish Script On Screen. It's the manuscript collections from a bunch of different universities and colleges in Ireland, including the Royal Irish Academy. It has scans of all the manuscript pages, and tons and tons of notes and information on all of them, including where to find editions of the text. It makes my nerdheart go squee. You can ask for a password to be allowed to get the really high-res images of the manuscripts, for transcription. It's run by the Dublin Institute of Advanced Studies, which has two departments: Celtic Studies and Physics.

Still in exile. Still sick. Still cold. Still everything. Have a meme!

!Pick up to 15 OTPs.
!Describe them in less than 15 words.
!Have your flist guess the OTP.

1. Unexplained breakfasts together, divine showers, one was brainwashed and everything the other hated. In space. - Ivanova/Cmdr Whorebag Talia (Babylon 5) electronic_emo
2. Hotshot Naval lawyers, I know they don't get together but they're adorable when they flirt. - Mac/AJ (JAG) electronic_emo
3. One literally gave up their life to save the other (and was a sarcastic virgin) in space. - Ivanova/Marcus (Babylon 5) nanashi_sama
4. One was a misogynistic Chinese widower at fifteen, one a bouncy "American" former street kid. - Duo/Wufei (Gundam Wing) puffinmuffin
5. If one only had a heart, and one only had a brain. - Cain/Glitch (Tin Man) ladykittykatwku
6. Tough colonel dealing with heartbreak and the nerdy disgraced professor who saved them. - Jack/Daniel (SG1) ladybug218
7. They're sixteen, life is sweet, they hang out together (and do pottery Ghost-style).
8. They built a Ninja together, they're different species but their bosses made it work.
9. British likes to blow things up, southern playboy likes to make things run. In space! - Trip/Malcolm (ST: Enterprise) nanashi_sama
10. Blond, evil, prattish. Bumbling, heroic, green thumb. They do magic! - Draco/Neville (HP) foreverrhapsody

That was actually kinda hard. So I only did ten.

Am I crazy for thinking that working for CSIS as an Information Specialist would be a really cool career?

In yesterday's entry, I forgot to mention caitlin_chan's affection for putting small things into larger things. More specifically, putting many, many, many small things in a larger thing. Like, for example, groceries into a fridge. Or my entire life into a Civic Honda.

Last night when loading the truck, the first time I came down with a load, Caitlin had just dropped off a few boxes.

The second time I came down, she was directing the truck guy from the ground.

The third time, she was in the truck. No one was surprised.

She even made a space specifically harp-sized for Maddie's harp. I'm sure that Caitlin managed to get three times the amount of stuff into that truck as the truck guys would have. And loved every minute of it.

In other news, I have a cold. Am miserable.