McLuhan Melissa Mediums

If anyone who knows me well was the walk into my room right now and see this, I'm sure they would probably make me a cup of warm tea, enourage me to take a bath, and try to get me to talk about my feelings, because they'd think that clearly my normally anally neat self was going through some sort of a mental catastrophe.

Which, I am, kind of.

That's sort of what being with Melissa is like.

But I like it.

Constantly talking about "inter-blogging narratives" and "layered blogging dualities" may have made me slightly crazier. We feed off of one another.

I'm kind of choked there hasn't been more cribbage/Jess-Melissa "We're International Blogging Sensations" debauchery occurring, but school and work are exhausting me.

Melissa is out with Raymi/Lauren right now. I took advantage of the situation and made my bed for the first time in 5 days.

I also got this in the mail on Monday from Alberta. It came with no note- just an envelope of pictures and a bottle of blowing bubbles. Trevor Robert, a friend I really haven't spoken with in about three years paid $30 to express-post it to me.

Confused, I msned him and asked why.

Apparently it was payback for something I did to him three years ago. "I'm a little slow on my vengeance," he admitted.

This is hands-down the single greatest, weirdest thing I have ever recieved in the mail. All my other snail mail friends are going to have to step up their competition.

We went out for Halloween last night. I had the wooden spoon out again, in full working order. And when this 60-year-old cowboy, belt-buckle as big as a frisbee and all, approached our table to hit on Melissa, I knew he needed a good spanking. The only thing creepier than me hitting this guy with a spoon in the middle of the bar was probably his enthusiasm for the situation.

After Mick E. Fynn's, we went to Church Street to meet up with Scott, Jonny, Court, Jessex, Alice, Dell, Ben and Mark P, who had amazing makeup. Melissa stole my crappy camera (we have collectively decided that it is really sucky because the processing speed is like -100 seconds and by the time it takes a picture whatever you wanted to take a picture of has lived a lifetime and died, and I need a new one) and took some pictures, but I'm not going to post them in case she wants to. (I'm respecting the inter-blogging dialogues, obviously.)

After gawking at people, we caught a cab down College Street. Parting ways with Anna Wintour (who joined everyone else at Sports Pig), Melissa and I went to karoke at Neutral, where Katrina later joined us.

"I can't take pictures of myself," Melissa whined. I sympathized with her.

It wasn't until this afternoon that the hilarity of this statement hit me.

Fever!

Karoke should always be performed in costume. It actually seems slight odd to me now that people would sing karoke in a t-shirt and jeans.

Then again, I don't sing karoke.

Melissa may be messy, but she's an exceptionally good cockroach killer, which makes her a good houseguest. However, she's fiercely competitive, and determined to beat my score before she leaves tomorrow. It wouldn't surprise me if she waits until I fall asleep before she goes into the kitchen tonight for some serious China Cockroach Killing Action.

Oh, also, Sasha forgot to invite me to the Celtic Dance Show that her brother was producing. She's wandering around the house in a red plaid dress and heels, getting ready to go to the performances. I'm jealous and want my ghillies.