Hello World!

Hi! I’m Leiland. I’m the devil in disguise!

I give you stink eye!

I’m a cute hamster! I’ve heard the man human call me a rodent numerous times, but ignore his gibberish.

My hobbies include sleeping, eating, peeing and flinging my poo at the humans. I’m real good at it. I’ve hit the human targets many times. This displeases them.

Lately I’ve been gnawing on the cage, mostly on the wires where the humans release me. Dungeon door is what I make of it. The she human has been eyeing me and my dungeon gnawing. I’m fairly certain she does not approve because she keeps filling my living quarters with flavoured sticks for me to chew on. If only she human could get it through her head that this will only shut me up for mere minutes before I’m back to the dungeon wires.

You feed me KRYPTONITE?!

A couple nights ago, I almost broke free. The force of my gnawing must have rattled the dungeon doors and it flung open. As I started to step out, I heard the man human bellow to the she human. Before I knew it, she human was ranting and raving.

Back in the dungeon I went. The humans looked very sleepy. This pleases me for the noise of the dungeon door must have startled them out of their slumber. The humans have placed tiny wires around my vicinity doorway. I hear twist-ties come out of the human’s mouth.

zzzzzzzzzz

I’ll continue to gnaw. And cause chaos in the human’s lives. I’ll continue to plot against them. And plan for my escape. YOU HUMANS WILL NOT STOP ME. RAWR.

Death to you man human!

Murphy Better Know What He's Doing

What is that thing? That thing with that name… Murphy’s Law? Is that it?

I hope so, otherwise I’m just a tool who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

I’m going to give it a try because I’m incredibly tired of waiting around anxiously.

I’m waiting for an email reply back with some form of information on a contract to read over and sign. Oh, and waiting to write up a hefty cheque for a deposit. Because you can’t have a wedding without a venue. And you can’t have a wedding, with a venue, without a date.

whatthegeezusgoddamnfuck?

I know. I know.

How and when did that happen?

In due time.

In the meanwhile, a couple days ago I confirmed with the manager of the venue that we’d like to have our wedding ceremony and reception at their club. And after a good month and a half, we (the boyfriend – can’t I just call him that for now? I’m not used to fiancé just yet – and I) finally picked a date. Now I’m just waiting for this so-called contract so that we can fork over OUR SOULS (aka a $1,000 deposit cheque because apparently we swim in money) (we really don’t… FYI).

And now! I’ll wait and see if I receive information on this contract today.

Work with me, Murphy’s Law! Work with me!

Waiting is Never Fun

UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.

My gut. My wretched gut. It's turning tricks. Selling its soul to Satan.

In the last few days, I don't know what the hell is up with it. I've got gas coming out of every orifice of my body. It hasn't been pretty.

I'm fairly certain that the fact that I'm waiting for an email reply back on a particular subject isn't helping the situation at all. I was holding back on posting an entry till I got some form of concrete information, but apparently that's not going to happen.

Waiting...

Waiting some more...

G'DAMNIT.

The Gandharvas Takes This One

Happy effin first day of Spring. I'm so over this Winter and Snow bullshit. So over.

Let's all do ourselves a favour and rock out with your cock out and jam out with your clam out!

Skivvie Thief

Well, how awesome is it that after God-knows-how-long I finally type a post and then that’s it. I sicken myself. I also noticed that I really need to update that thing called flickr.

What’s even more sickening is that I’ve been ill with a cold for over a week, stressed to the max with work, averaging about 2 hours of sleep a night since Saturday of last week and to top this sundae with a cherry? I’m PMSing. That, folks, is never a good combination.

And just to make things even more exciting and turn things even more sickening, I’m back with another infamous AJ story!

The Tale of the Skivvie Thief. Because that’s just what the world needs more of.

Back over a year ago, while I was still living in the apartment downtown (What? Oh, yeah, I moved away from that apartment a while back. I know. I know! Update more often.), I got to experience my first laundry thief.

I was one of those people who went down (all 18 floors) to the laundry room, left their laundry in the washer/dryer and went back up to the apartment. Trusting in the “goodness” of man-kind, I never bothered worrying that my laundry would be rifled through. I would like to also add that I was never one of those pricks who would leave their clothes in the washer and/or dryer half an hour after the cycle was done just because I felt like I was King or Queen of the g’damn world.

Once my clothes were finished with the wash, I dumped everything in the dryer and left to go upstairs till the clothes were done.

After my alarm went off to let me know that time was up, I went downstairs to pick up my clothes.

As soon as I looked at the dryer, I noticed that a sock was stuck in the door. I figured that I was in a rush and didn’t realize that a sock tried to escape. No worries, just retrieve the sock, dump the rest of the laundry in the basket and head back upstairs.

A few days later, I was rifling through the laundry basket looking for a particular pair of skivvies that I had washed earlier. (Yeah, you read right. Looking for skivvies in the laundry basket. A few days later. Because I hate folding laundry. OKAY?)

And that’s when I noticed I had no skivvies in that basket. None. Nada. Zilch. The eight or so pairs I had washed were gone. A SKIVVIE-MOTHEREFFIN-THIEF. They left my socks. My shirts. My pants. They just wanted my clean undies that had been in the wash and thrown in the dryer.

I was so distraught that I had to go out that night and buy eight more pairs of skivvies just to make up for the loss. To be honest, it was probably for the best. Because, really, who needs about 25 pairs of skimpy skivvies? Apparently, I do.

What I don’t get is why would the Thief wait until they were in the dryer? I mean, if you’re really into that “thing”, wouldn’t you want them pre-wash?

Needless to say, I spent the next while keeping a close eye on my clothes in the laundry room after that ordeal.