The J-spot

So, my roommate and I had some friends over and as any normal people would we started talking about sex. One of our friends from out of town told us that she was taking a class in that subject. One thing led to another and soon enough we were taking about the female ejaculation.

The gay men in the room seemed to have a lack of knowledge on the vagina and its many secrets. They were out of the loop. "Does it really shoot it out, like a penis?" they asked. "Yes!" replied the two lesbians and the one straight girl.

Two days later, my roommate was still very perplexed as to how this could happen. We then decided to Xtube it. For those of you who don't know what Xtube is, picture YouTube but with porn, it's free and fun. If you don't know what YouTube is well I can't really help you.

Gay he was before, but now, well yeah that was it. Surely enough, there it was, women cumming like there was no tomorrow. I had never seen so much liquid come out of vagina, I don't even think I can pee that much. It was liquid like pee but it wasn't pee. Nasty love juices all over place, people, the sheets, mattress, you name it. Someone could potentially sue you in the States for having cummed all over their shit and damaged it.

By this point I was very confused. I had never felt the joy of being a happy human fountain. I mentioned it to one of my girl friends and she told me it was indeed possible, she had in fact fucked up one of her keyboards because she came all over it. Then she said, once you know where the G-spot is this can happen to you. As any good friend would, she told me where my G-spot was, aka the J-spot.

Those videos really traumatised me though. I'll experiment when I'll have drank enough booze to kill the brain cells with the memories in question.

I can count up to 47

South park has Mr. Mackey and the linguistic department at Concordia has Professor Teffeteller... Mmmokay. I don't seem to think when I register for my classes and end up taking shit like sociolinguistics. One semester I ended it up in a critical thinking class, oh that was painful. If you want to torture me, put me in a philosophy class. The worst part is, I still don't think critically.

Sociolinguistics is a really boring class for those of you who are thinking "...that could be interesting". My friend Jon likes it but that just means the next time he says "hey we should take a class together and it should be this one..." that I have to stand up and say NO, bad Jon!

Oh man... The teacher shows up to class with her two little worshipers (the two TAs) and then the fun begins. They discuss and consult each other on how they should turn on the computer and dim the lights. Fifteen minutes later, the lecture begins.

The prof likes to make sure that people understand. So, she always says Okay...?, Right...? and Yeah...? Actually, I do understand and those are called minimal responses, thanks professor. She says OK exactly like Mr. Mackey on South Park. As a fresh rookie linguist I noticed this the first class. As weeks past and I realised the class would never really get interesting I made my own fun and started counting the number of times she would say okay, right, and yeah in class. I made a section for each word on my page and I put a line down for each time she says the words. I counted 47 times for okay! Plus, I stopped counting in the middle of class because someone text messaged me.

Yeah?

Oh man

For Christmas, one of my friends gave me this: a 1000 DRINKING Games. Good thing I forgot it in Moncton because this equals 2 years and 270 days of drinking games. Jesus, I drink of my own will already... Could you imaging what would remain of my liver by the time I would reach the age of (23 and some + 2 years and 270 days) 26?

It had the weirdest way of explaining the rules, in fact, the rules made no sense at all. You know what that means; on top of things you had to be drunk to play the game! "Hey guys, guys, lets... lets play it like this".... Yeah! Woohoo booze!

Props to the guys, and yes they would be guys, who invented the game though. One night they got drunk and realised they had no more money so they smoked their last joint and one of them said "lets like... lets like find a way to make money dude". "Yo! That's a good idea man". And tada! The drinking game was born!

Myspace and smokes

Fourteen days ago I became a non-smoker. I must admit that I have cheated and will probably continue to cheat from time to time.

Quiting nicotine is hard. For you non-smokers out there it's kind of like not checking your Myspace for an entire day. Try, you can't. And unfortunately, there's no readily available patch for myspace. There are healthier alternatives such as facebook but they can be addictive.

One day though... When I'll be too cool for Myspace or something really embarrassing on my page will occur I will go in my account settings to click on "cancel account". Cold turkey.

I feel cool on Myspace but it hurts my brain.

Real estate market: boxes

Can't afford a hotel, motel, or a tent? The box might just be the thing you were looking for all along. This particular type of real estate market might just offer you things you never thought possible. Yes, you could own your very own box!

Over the years, cardboard boxes have kept at a steady rate on the market. Unfortunately, this means that the box can't be sold for much more than what you bought it for.

Not for you you say? Well, maybe check out the Waxy cardboard boxes. They're smaller in size than regular boxes but the wax makes your new box more weather resistant. Because of its smaller size it's also more portable, just like an RV.

New on the market are dick in a box boxes and box in a box boxes. Growing in popularity, both these types offer a nice peephole. However, the box in a box boxes are the only ones to have a door. Just ask Justin Timberlake, he recently bought a dick in a box box and he sure looks happy. However, these boxes are very expensive and are generally given as gifts by the rich.

Cross Canada drive back to reality

You'd think that after tree planting for an entire summer that I coulfd afford to buy myself a plane ticket back home... Well yes, but that would have been the rest of my money. Instead, I decided to drive through the country.

Anton and Tomaz wanted to drive continuously. From Alberta to Ontario, no stops, except to pee and eat.

I was SO tired. Three nights and three days in a car catching sleep in increments of 3-4 hours is though on the body and brain.

We caught some nice views though. Spotted this massive cumulonimbus cloud across Saskatchewan. And that's me on the right looking like a heroine/crack addict.

Finally got to Sudbury where I got onto a bus for Ottawa. That ride was sweet, I slept. When I got to Montreal, I parked my ass on Jon's couch for four days to watch tv and play video games. I love Jon.

Montreal is too much after having stayed in the bush for the summer. Everything seems fake when you get back. Makeup? I have to straighten my hair now? What the hell? Yeah... So I ran away to Moncton, for three weeks! My god, to be back at the folks place with a real bed, free food and cable needs no further elaboration. The now enhanced tomboy in me helped my dad replace the shingles on our roof. And I actually had fun doing it, well it helped that he paid me but still I'd do it again.

My real estate market

This is my summer house: my tent.

The t.p. is useful at night when it's too dark and cold to walk to the shitters. Sometimes, depending on the camp site, the shitters were really far. Honestly, by the end, no one wipes, I mean for girls.

Here the mattress looks inflated but this is either an optical illusion or the first and only night it had no hole. I suppose next year I should buy a mattress that's worth more than 10 bucks. It was alright without one though, I improvised, slept on all my clothes.

The blue thing in the back serves no real purpose, it only makes my tent a little girlier. Maman nounourse (my teddy bear) was there though, that made my tent real girly.

This was a good tent but the zipper started acting up toward the end. I think it was from camping in a gravel pit for two weeks, all that dust clogged it. Someone gave me another tent but that zipper's fucked too.

Does anyone have a house for sale?