I just combed through the
entire Canadian excise act of 2001 trying to find legal loopholes in which to produce alcohol in the basement of my fictional sketchy bar. My fictional bar's name is Charley-O's (like that place near 42nd street). While my alcohol will get you blind, you can buy prostitutes and drugs in the corner.
My original plan was to go to MACDONALD CAMPUS randomly tommorow to get some books for my takehome midterm, but I may cancel that. It would've been fun, because obviously I'd try to sneak onto the farm and bother the animals, and when else am I going to get to bother farm animals before my 1pm class?
My landlady finally turned on the heat here. I am so happy right now, I'm actually HOT in my once cold drafty apartment. Shut up, you didn't come back from having the air conditioner on in New York during Canadian thanksgiving to still freezing to death under four blankets in Montreal. I danced when I first felt the warm radiator.
OH OH OH. The FREAKIEST thing ever happened. So I check the freezer the other day and find a pint of breyers coffee ice cream. The reason I never buy ice cream up here is because I'm too cheap to afford breyers and am a snob and refuse to eat anything else. So of course I chow down. I assume that my mom bought me the ice cream somehow when she was up here and left it in my freezer to surprise me. When I thank her, she tells me she didn't buy it. Then I ask Ankura if it's hers, and she says she didn't buy it. Someone at the party could've gotten it, but no one up here knows about my ice cream snobbery AND my love of coffee and who buys ice cream and puts it in someone's fridge without telling them anyway? Too much of a coincidence. So yea, I ate unexplained ice cream. If I die or pass out and disappear everyone here will know why.