Confused? Aran?

Subtitle: "OMG! It's a Wiener Lassie!"

Wiener Lassie! The other night, Holly and I were at Butchart Gardens taking a nice stroll. The Gardens had been 'officially' closed for about 40 minutes or so, but we weren't in any hurry. We meandered our way to the main entry courtyard where the info building and gift shops are located. I noticed something up ahead and said to Holly, "OMG! It's a Wiener Lassie!" Needless to say, she was a little confused. I pointed at the dog and it all made sense. It looked like this dog was a cross between a Daschund (the 'wiener dog') and a Rough Collie (Lassie). It was Lassie in wiener dog form!


On a completely different topic, I have another guest entry. This entry is brought to you by Aran. Apparently, this happened to him last week. (I think he may have missed a dose...)

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This could not have gone more wrong.

Yesterday evening, by the fireplace in her deceased Uncle's mansion, I proposed to her. Lindsay cried, saying she could not possibly wed and impose upon me her terrible debts, but I consoled her and vowed to take care of her affairs. We consummated our love in the master bedroom and settled down to, I thought, a blissful sleep.

I was roused during the night to the sounds of scratching or pawing downstairs, as if the cats were fighting. Curious, I kissed Lindsay on the cheek as I stood up, fastened on my robe, and crept down the spiral staircase to the atrium. Now, I write this here with trembling hands, for what I saw down there was no cat, mouse, nor anything remotely of this Earth. Perhaps it was a retarded vagrant, having crept in through a window seeking warmth from the night. But this I swear, that small shape changed form in front of me, taking the likeness of a towering, many-eyed daemon with a rotting child's head for a face, a black monstrosity the likes of which I never hope to see again.

The abhorrence leered towards me and let out a terrible bellow that shook the roof, but I could only open and close my mouth fruitlessly. Ashamedly, I soiled myself at that moment. The nightmare shambled towards me, and, by the grace of god, the survival instinct flooded my veins with fire and I fled up the stairs. Lindsay was already up, staring wide-eyed at me in shock. Screaming, I shoved her into the room and we hid under the bed.

Though we could not see it, we heard the dark horror lumber up the stairs, it's claws scraping the brass balustrade. Trembling, we awaited our fate.

It was then that I believe I passed out. I awoke in the morning naked in my bed in the residency of the UVic. When I went to Lindsay's house, it was gone. And I swear this, there were ancient trees growing where it once stood, as if it was never there.

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That is all.

[MSN Spaces] Confused? Holly?

I thought about this the other week while on the phone with Holly. I'm happy to see it actually come about!

Instead of me writing up an entry, this time around I have a guest author. After a bit of gentle poking and prodding (I hear you sniggering in the back. Stop it!), and waiting for final exams and projects and other events to conclude, an entry was born. Take it away, Holly!

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For a while now I have been learning to lead during the lessons at Swing City. There are several times during the lesson that we split into groups of 'leads' and 'follows' which is classically 'guys' and 'girls' and that tends to be how it is instructed. "Guys on this side; girls on that side." So, I often get some strange looks as I walk over to join the 'guys' side or when I try to find a partner again. I reassure them that they are in the right place and that I'm not confused by saying something like "I'm learning to be a guy." (Okay that might not assure them that I'm not confused.)

Learning to be a guy is intriguing, some things that are quintessential to being a girl have to be unlearned. For instance, left actually means left and right actually means right. This has probably had a positive impact on my ability to follow driving directions, though my substitution of 'driver's side,' 'passenger's side' has always worked without fail. I am also noticing that I have a greater appreciation of cars, but I think that might be due to my habits as a follow (Wayne slows down while walking and his eyes follow a nice car) as most of my car classification still falls under 'old,' 'new,' 'sporty,' 'big,' 'shiny' etc.

Not only that, but learning to be a lead is a great way to meet girls! Those of you who do partner dance should have a good idea of what I mean. Oftentimes when you dance with someone you chat a little bit and all those little bits add up and you get to know people over time and they are who you gravitate to when you sit down between dancing. Of course, leads do meet other leads and follows do meet other follows - often through someone they know from having danced with them. But this doesn't always mean you get to meet the new people! Lessons are where you meet new people! Every few minutes during the lesson everyone switches partners - it's like speed dating, only the emphasis is on learning how to dance with people who have different styles and can teach you different things - not meeting someone to date - and you get to chat with the new dancers who are trying out swing! So, just in learning to lead I have increased the number of people that I know at swing! and have hugely increased the number of girls I know!

But don't worry! As intriguing as learning to be a guy is it also reminds me that I like being a girl! [*sigh of relief* -ed.] There are multiple reasons that I'm glad I am a girl: way more versatility in clothing (pants, skirts, shorts, capris not to mention a million styles of shirts) and wearing guys clothes is quite acceptable; chocolate can make everything better; gay waiters don't hit on me; no fighting off cougars (the older female variety that Matt attracts); I can tell my friends that their butt looks good; and last but definitely not least, I couldn't be Wayne's girlfriend if I wasn't a girl! [ - ed.] (Besides, I don't think I'd ever quite get the hang of leaving the toilet seat up.)

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This may bite me in the ass, but I'm open to more guest authors. If you'd like to contribute, send me an email with your writeup! If you don't actually know me (and therefore don't know my real email address), send me an IM using the email in my profile. So assuming I get more guest authors, any entries titled "Confused? <INSERT NAME>?" will be written by others from now on. You have been warned.

That is all.