Where am I now?

Aha, I’m online with enough time to update the ol’ blog.

This weekend my Aunt came out to visit from B.C. and my brother and I went to visit her and our cousins in Blyth. It was a lot of fun, and a lot of driving, as we took a new route. (It took us through weird places like Shakespear and Dublin. Who would live in places like that??) Following some dinner, and some visiting we drank my aunt’s new signature drink, sangria, and talked the night away. The next morning we were up early, and on the road again after an awesome bacon and egg breakfast. We got family portraits done, and I got some pictures taken for my passport, then we all went to the park.

It was a busy day in the park. There was a homecoming football game, a little zoo, and a medieval festival all happening at the same time. While we were there we ran into Glum Chum and his pirates of the Campus Main. Holding no candle to the Milton Ren Fest of old, we departed after spending less than an hour at the festival. After the park we went for dinner, then saying our goodbyes headed back from Waterloo to Guelph and then to Toronto. I had been planning on staying in B-dot and spending some time with Shabudabu, but she was tired and had to be up early, and thus I opted to attend my buddy Mike’s shindig on the Harbourfront.

Everything was going swimmingly until one of the people at the party threw up on the table at the bar. The first bar. We then, justifiably, attempted to move to another bar, and would have succeeded had it not been for another member of our party, who was both very drunk and very rowdy. I’m sure he thought he was being funny while he was shouting rude things to strangers and throwing flyers into the streets. He hit his comic peek when he tried chugging mustard and then threw mouthfuls of it onto the rest of our shirts and pants. My outfit is in the wash as we speak. By the end of the night I was tired. I figured the best way for me to actually get the sleep I needed would be to sleep in my dad’s van.

I must have parked in the craziest parking lot in Toronto. All night long I heard bottles breaking and people yellingl; then at six in the morning music started playing loudly. By eight o’clock a marathon had started (blocking the road I would soon need to turn onto) and a marching band was busy welcoming everyone to the finish line.

Eventually I grudgingly woke up, and hauled my exhausted self back to Brantford so I could return my father’s van, and come back to the Centre for a nap; which I have yet to take.