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Monday, 30 June 2014

Embarrassment is my weapon.

I find that I am the most awkward person to be around when you don't know me. These are my symptoms:
And if I were to meet someone new, and I had all these conversation starters, it would probably go a little like this:
Stranger: Hi.
Me: I almost died on a ski hill once.
Stranger: What's your name?
Me: Mnike
Stranger: Sorry what?
Me: Mow-Nique?
Stranger: Sorry what? Meneque?
Me: Uh, Menek?
Stranger: Oh, Menek!
Me: (Already giving up) Yeah, sure.
Stranger: What's your last name?
Me: Vigneault
Stranger: ViƱoo?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Stranger: Is it spelt V-I-N-I-O?
Me: *Throws dictionary at stranger*
In conclusion, I am probably some kind of an alien near strangers judging from the symptoms.

I'm an advocate for Ampersands.

Everyone knows that a Tick-Tac-Toe grid is a "Hashtag", because of social media, but you know who feels left out?
The Ampersand.
I'm not sure half the world knows what an Ampersand is anymore, so I will show you a picture.
This is an Ampersand.
Poor lonely, Ampersand.

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Tourists and Whales with low self-esteem

 I was watching the news and one of the headlines read:
"Rare Albino Parades Off Coast"
And I'm thinking, wow these headlines make the animals sound really spontaneous. I mean, what's the next headline? "Seal sassy-ly waddles into water." Now, I'm no Whale expert, or Whale watcher, and I don't mean to rain on this Whale's "Parade", but it's only a parade if you have more than one Whale.
In other news, Monique knows nothing about Whales and is a Whale-bully.
Okay, this makes me really depressed. You see that wound right there? That's the wound I left in the lonely Whale's heart. I'm a terrible person.
Speaking of Whale Watchers, I wanted to talk about Tourists.
Tourists are like if an Oxymoron had a child. It's an Oxymoron's love child. Because, tourists always seem interested in everything they're doing, and they know stuff about the subject but at the same time know nothing. They also get excited over nothing. For example Whale Watchers like Watching Whales. (Thank you Captain Obvious.) And they have all these fancy cameras and there they are parading (Ironically) around with their bucket hats and fanny-packs, and once they snap a picture of let's say a tiny portion of a whale's tail, they get all excited like teenage girls at a Justin Bieber concert. Yeah, you have a picture of a Whale's tail. You could go on google images and find them there. I'm giving Whale's and Whale-watchers a hard time here. Okay if you're a whale or a whale watcher, I am so sorry. 
To put into perspective the way tourists act, let's make the setting a public bathroom. So there's tourists all around the bathroom and they're snapping pictures of everything.
"Oh honey you have to take a look at this guy's socks! They are just the best shade of petunia!"
Or the tour guide points out the soap in the soap dispenser:
"Here is the purple soap dispenser that caries the purple soap"
Then a very loud flamboyant woman will scream from the crowd of tourists:
"Hey! Why is the soap purple? That's so bizarre, OMG I have never experienced something so bizarre in the entirety of my whole existence!"
Yes, this is how tourists sound when they know nothing about the place they're visiting. It's like asking why people are pooping in a bathroom. So yeah, buy a tour book or somethin'. Or don't. I don't run your life.
(No Whales were harmed in the making of this post. Except maybe that Whale's self-esteem. Sorry!)

Saturday, 21 June 2014

Ducks and Chemicals Vs. Non-Ducks and Non-Chemicals

It's funny how in today's society throwing chemicals at your face and trying to be a duck is considered attractive yet not throwing chemicals on your face and not trying to be a duck is considered unattractive.*
Moral of the story: Ducks have ruined society 


Apperances: The second suspect has been found sporting an hourglass figure, and usually wearing very revealing garments. The first suspect has usually been found as an imposter for the victim's mouth. 

If found please call: 1800-I-Need-help-trying-to-fix-society-and-myself
Or E-mail at

*In case you had a little trouble undestanding this personification and weird analogy, I was talking about Duck faces and makeup. Also, that number and E-mail doesn't exist. Good luck finding it.
P.S Don't send me a dead duck in the mail please, or any radioactive substances. I actually do like ducks a fair amount, so if you're going to mail me a duck, at least mail it alive? Thanks.

Finals, you're a jerk, sir.

One word, well technically three if I count "One Word". Wait then it'd be fifteen words woops now nineteen, okay I give up. 
The word is "Finals" in case you are still following along.
One more week until I can freely wander the world and trip over things. The good thing is, It'll be my choice and my free-will to choose to trip over things. I haven't written here because of that precise matter. STUPID FINALS ARGH IF YOU WERE A PERSON I'D STRANGLE YOU 
Yeah, no, I need therapy. 
Don't expect me to have some kind of plot in this post because there isn't one. Also, a slight warning to all To-be-mothers, don't name your kid "Finals", because I'm pretty sure that person is probably going to be chased by mercenaries sent to him across the world. (Not me. I don't hire mercenaries. Only sometimes.)
Right, so moral of the story, nothing.
I don't run your life.
I don't even walk your life.
Maybe pathetic crawling yes. (Those are three bad puns I am never going to be able to take back.)
I hope you're all having a fantastic day, and happy summer solstice! Even you, Finals. Even you. 

Sunday, 15 June 2014

A infected post for Father's Day

I'm writing this with a stuffed up nose and angry left ear and I just realized something:
It's father's day
And what better way to celebrate Father's day than to have your daughter suddenly catch some kind of hybrid-ear-infection-slash-cold-slash-sudden-loss-of-voice thing. I know I may not always be the best daughter, and I bet I have many years ahead of me filled with disappointing moments, such as this one once you realize you didn't raise an optimist. Anyways, I'd like to dedicate this blog post to you, as I sit sulking in my bed like a crybaby. I guess that's the best part of being a father, right? Finding out who your kids are, and what they are really bad at, and what they're really good at. As you can probably already tell, I am not the best person at giving gifts. For the first ten years or more of my life I spent giving you boxers as a gift. Not even a real live boxer. One that you can ride courageously into the sunset like a boss. No, I gave you an item of clothing to cover your rear. Every. Year. For that, I have to thank you the most. It takes a man of great strength to accept spongebob trousers and smile at the same time. But being completely serious, dad, I want to thank you for shaping me to the person I am today. A sardonic blogger. No, what I meant to say was, I want to thank you for teaching me the lessons of life and guiding me to be the person I want to be. I repeat, a sardonic blogger. Seriously, though, for what it's worth, I love you. (Like, a lot. So, it's kind of a big deal)

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

I don't remember signing up for this..

..So, I keep hearing about this bizarre thing all over my school talking about, what?
"Final exams"
They give you this big-donkey (Get it? Get it?) test, and then you have to write down about everything in the year, and they used a word that I don't understand, it's not in my vocabulary. You can "fail" What does this mean? I don't remember filling out a form to sign up for this? Is this a free thing? I don't really want it in my school year if it's like a bonus or something. Is there anyway I can unsubscribe to this from all my courses?

Just kidding. I know what it is.

But seriously, I don't remember signing up for this with a side of ulcers. (Thank God I haven't gotten the side dish. Yet.)

Sunday, 8 June 2014

I'm an Ice-cream-truck-driving-real-boss-chick

One of these days, actually no. One day, when I'm really rich and sophisticated (And will learn how to spell sophisticated without spell-check helping me) I will buy myself an empty ice cream truck. That's right, empty.
Why you ask? I will cruise down a populated neighbourhood or school zone, and just stop. Kids will come running towards me, and this is what will happen.
*Fluttery kids scream ice cream and run towards my truck of sheer awesomness and lies*
KIDS: Ice cream!
ME: Hey kids, get your hands of my car. Is that what all you kids do? Run to random cars all the time and touch them? Geez, this generation.
Then I'll probably speed of really quickly into the sunset like a boss. Or maybe just like a terrible rich person with too much time to kill. Either way who cares, I own a darn ice cream truck.
And, according to Google, the North American definition of a boss is:
 excellent; outstanding.
  1. "she's a real boss chick"

Thank you google, for calling me a real boss chick. Next time, tell me something I don't know.
Anyways the lesson of this story is, I'm a real boss chick because I'll own an ice cream truck. 

Friday, 6 June 2014

Carnivorous Hamsters.

Okay, warning. If you are a little wee child, you need to get off my blog. Seriously, these stories are not Oh-hey-kids-crowd-around-me-in-a-library-while-I-read-to-you kind of stories. They are more like I-totally-just-ruined-everyone's-childhood kind of stories. So there you have it.
What better way to ruin somebody's childhood than telling a story that sort of ruined my respect for hamsters, eh?

Twas the night before Christmas, and I was awake. Yeah I ruined the parody, but it's okay. My life is a parody. Of what, I haven't figured out yet. I was about ten or something and I was excited to get gifts. My mother was nowhere to be found, and I wondered why. So, I walked into my mother's room. I heard a faint rumble coming from the closet, so without thinking (I was ten and stupid) I opened the door. 
I walked in and almost immediately I saw my mom putting together what looked like a hamster cage. It was awesome. It had different levels, and colours of plastic. (I repeat, I was ten. Plastic was appealing to me back then. I have an action figure in front of me. Okay, it still is) 
She shrieked and went all mother on me, so I left, and went to bed.
The next morning, I woke up bright early to take a look at my gifts. Under the tree, was the coloured plastic cage, only this time it had tiny little baby hamsters climbing all over the place. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen besides my mirror. (Joking, joking) I loved the baby hamsters, they ran around and were awesome. They were doing their job at being hamsters pretty well, until the very next day.
My hamsters were nowhere to be seen.  I walked to the back of the house wondering where they were, and right by the furnace room, the cleaning lady blocked my entrance.
"You can't come here."  She said.
"Whadda ya mean? I always cmere." I replied like a sassy ten-year old.
I sort of moved out of her way and in a tiny cardboard box, lay the baby hamsters. Only, their heads and different parts of their not so innocent selves lay in their mouths. They ate each other. I was horrified, and since that day, I have been scarred for life, because not only did I find out my mother was Santa, but that baby hamsters were cannibals. Anyways lesson of the story:
Hamsters are evil. Except Shrek, my first hamster. You're not evil. You're cool. 
P.S sorry for the awful story. You can't say I didn't warn you..

Thursday, 5 June 2014


Hullo citizens of the inter-webz! Let's get straight to the point. Today is my second round of shotuouts to awesome people doing awesome things. (Being my friend, pffft, obviously)
So, I like to give out the weirdest memes or things or watchamicallits, so here it goes.

I cannot explain how wonderful you are. We are sisters remember? YOU CANNOT TAKE THAT BACK NOW. 
Waaaaaaaay..too many. IT'S WIIIIIIIIINDDDDDYYYYY!!!

First of all, thanks for being my friend! Now, you are in my shoutouts Daniel. You have entered my blog, and there is no turning back now. Yes, I can see you right behind that tiny puny phone screen gettting freaked out at this total psycho mind game. Yeah. Totally.
Not my fault that GLaDos is a liar.

Attack on Titan bud! You're one of nicest people I have met! Keep being awesome. (And my friend)
A little heichou for you today.
You're an awesome friend, and what better way to bond than debating, eh? Am I right? Oh right, you never think I am right.

P.S If you were not mentioned you'll probably be in the next list! Bye! 
P.P.S Also, these aren't ranked by who my "Best friends" are, all my friends are equally important.