Saturday, March 12, 2005

Hanging in There

As you may have noticed, you devastatingly wonderful readers, The Avocado is on a hiatus. Things are a little hectic right now, and just so you don’t check back here all the time hoping for some kind of miracle post, I thought I'd tell you that there will be no updates until the end of April.

Before I go, I'd like to pay my deepest condolences to Socar Myles, who lost her friend Stella (a giant rat). Socar, I am so sorry for your loss. Big hugs from another Vancouverite.

For those of you with a lot of reading time on your hands, I highly recommend Socar's website. I also recommend all the links on my sidebar. I would like to give you a passage from the website of Mr. Skot Kurruk, who is, regrettably, already taken:

One morning I began to cross (with cars oncoming but down the road a bit), and I failed to correctly judge the outlandish speed that one small car was approaching at. The next thing I knew, the damn sporty little can had squealed to a screeching halt mere feet from my knees, scaring the helpless loafs of shit nearly right out of me. (Bear in mind that the bloody assholes are supposed to stop anyway.) Then--then!--the tiny little silver fucking douchecar emitted this unbelievably horrible noise--BLAAAAAP!

The fuckette--for it was a woman--was honking at me. For crossing the street. At a crosswalk. At which she was hurtling at barely subsonic speed. Well, that was it. In a truly reptilian display of limbic outrage, I wheeled on the car and let fly with my lit cigarette at the windshield, whose trajectory was remarkably flat for such an aerodynamically challenged item. It bounced off the glass feebly, and I screamed, "FUCK YOU!" I was dimly pleased to see the woman flinch, probably fearing that I was going to crawl into her car like a mythical, horrid onramp incubus and violate her in some awfully specific way.

I felt bad about this later--a little bit--I mean, freaking women out is not something I strive for on a daily basis. But maybe this one deserved it . . . a little bit?

I like this passage because the cars and trucks (especially the trucks) on campus drive around oblivious to the fact that people (real people!) are walking. My close encounters with big trucks have not made me appreciate the fact that I am alive, but rather, they have created the urge to use my middle finger on more than one occasion. If I had my Frisbee on those occasions, many windshields would have been broken. I do not scream ‘fuck you’ as often as you might imagine. Every time a big truck comes at me with no intention of decelerating, I want to shout, "Watch it! I have expensive textbooks in my backpack! Plus $75 worth of allergy medication! Plus Armani glasses! You bastards!"

You take care, okay?

(A quick note: If you have seasonal allergies (ie hayfever), and have a runny nose and brutally itchy eyes, over the counter eye drops will not alleviate your symptoms. In my experience, they've made it worse. Go to your doctor and ask for prescription nasal sprays and eye drops. They work like magic, and you no longer walk around looking diseased and hung over. I've never tried oral antihistamines (ie Claritin), but I've heard that they work for some people, and control overall symptoms as opposed to targeting a particular one. So if pollens irritate your skin as well, you might want to give those a shot. A friend of mine recommends herbal medicine (a brand called Nu Power, which I was unable to find), and claims that it's effective enough by itself. One last word of advice: DON'T RUB YOUR EYES.)

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