busy2. This afternoon, after stressing out all morning about the where-am-I-going-to-live-omg-box-on-a-st
2b. Then, backing out of my parents' driveway, I was rear-ended by some redneck guy and his stirrup-pantsed wife-- sorry. I can't actually vouch, personally, for the stirrup-pants, but based on experience I am fairly secure in my assessment. Baseball-cap-guy began by treating me as a stupid little girl, implying that I should have anticipated him careening at high speed around the corner as I backed out of my own driveway at 5kph, something that didn't start to piss me off until we had already driven away. But no damage to anybody, I got his license and I don't know if he got mine, but it's all good. I figure it balances out the kharma.
3. Getting ready to go back to my apartment this evening, standing in the driveway with my mother, our neighbour (the one who has his own production company and does a lot of business with Vancouver Film Studios) walks up and asks how everybody is doing. Somehow the conversation came around to the fact that I am graduating and about to be unemployed, and he mentioned that a friend of his on the Visual Effects staff of the Fantastic Four movie might need some assistants. It's a "maybe" thing, and it wouldn't be until June, so I still need some temp work in the meantime, but eeeeeeeeee! *ahem*
4. On the drive home with
lilymc and calantha42, we were whizzing along the Mary Hill Bypass and suddenly there was a *bump* and then the car was full of a horrible roaring noise that made us think we'd blown a tire - except it didn't feel or actually *sound* like a blown tire, so my sister pulled over, I got out, and as it turns out, we had run over this.That, if you can't see, is a banged-up 4 litre Dairyland 2% milk jug with the name "Brett" and a phone number written on it in marker. I pulled it out of the wheel housing, before it could kill us.
Now, the presence of a milk jug with a phone number written on it was just too much for us to resist - so we gave "Brett" a call, meaning only to tell him that we'd found his milk jug and ask him if he wanted it back.
We got who we think was his girlfriend. Er. ;)
The point is, the hell? Milk jug. Huh.
And somewhere in there was the stealing from the church. But let's save that for another day.
Last week of classes! And I can't get into the SFU login, so I can't finish my calendar page for April, and I don't know whether my graduation app has been approved yet or not, but last week of classes. I am so, so sleepy. Tomorrow is the last poetry workshop (and then we retire, as a class, to the pub), Thursday is the Humanities "Show Clips Of Your Awful Futurist Movie" movie night (and then we retire to the pub), and Friday is the Science Fiction and Fantasy Club's end-of-the-semester bash, which is not actually *in* a pub, but at a TGI Friday's, and I fully expect there to be copious amounts of pretty drinks with umbrellas in them, so it amounts to more or less the same thing-- are we sensing a pattern, here? Friday will also be my last official function in my brief but only mildly incompetent stint as President. Ah, nostalgia. Except not, much, but hey. Dinner. (Damnit. Forgot to waylay the student society for funds. Hm. Not like we're going to use the semester budget for anything else this semester. Should really do that.)
Okay. Only slept four hours yesterday (curse you, Daylight Savings Time!), so should do some of that now. Must be up early and get to the bank.
