Monthly Archives: September 2012

“Let’s not throw burning shuttles into my window.”

First of all, we had the housewarming party.

Doyle and our friend Zack cuddled:

This happens often.

Dyck was bored.

He was sleeping at first, but then he was pretty contented to just stare into the nothingness of the wall.



Right. So. Party happened. It went pretty much as expected. Dyck was drunk and antisocial, Doyle was sober and social, and I hid in my room. All in all, good night.

In any case, the next day, Doyle and Dyck decided to  install curtains/blinds into most of the windows of the house. Here I was, thinking that we were going to have a day of responsible adulthood.


At some point the decision was made to make the instructions for installing the blinds into paper airplanes, light them on fire, and send them hurtling out of Doyle’s bedroom window.

Dyck would wait below to bat at it with one of our curtain rods.

He was enthusiastic.

Tabitha (our friend): Can you guys have fires in the backyard?

Doyle and Dyck (simultaneously): Yes/No.

Dyck: Wait. No, we can’t. There are rules about this sort of thing. It’s completely irresponsible.

Doyle: Look at what we’re doing.

Dyck: …fair.

The best part about this is that even after we said that we probably weren’t allowed to do this, our guests never said a word. Thanks for looking out for us, guys.


Kelsey: You know, we just move out, still in the middle of trying to convince our parents that we’re capable of living on our own and being responsible adults, and then this. This happens.

Doyle: I think we should try this with cardboard.

Kelsey: What if one of these lands in the neighbour’s yard?

Doyle: Get me some cardboard.

I don’t actually know what he’s doing here.

At this point Dyck started throwing the flaming airplanes back up to Doyle’s window, but most of them didn’t cover much ground. The cardboard airplane seemed promising when Doyle threw it down.


It flew into the neighbour’s yard.

I was laughing because this actually happened, but below us, Dyck absolutely did not want to go into the neighbour’s yard to retrieve it. I thought he definitely should. Then he would have to explain how it got there.

Doyle tried to convince Dyck to go and get it, but Dyck wasn’t a big fan of explaining the flaming airplane to the neighbours. They were very serious when they were discussing this. It was hilarious.

Fortunately, Tabitha volunteered to help get it and Doyle went with.

Trespassing and pyrotechny all in one day.

It was a good day for adulthood.

Shortly after putting the curtains up downstairs, Dyck remembered that he had bought a whiteboard to hang in the main living area so as to write down lists, our schedules, or other such things that we shouldn’t forget. This was a good idea. I thought the day was going to end on a note of normalcy.



“You… you rubbed your saliva on my face today.”

Dyck and Doyle came back from the school early today because Doyle had a fever.

I was upstairs for a bit, so I wasn’t convinced that Doyle had a fever today until he started making wild hand gestures and chewing on his stuffed alligator for about five minutes straight.

You read that right.

I was kind of watching with the slightest amusement and possibly uneasiness (it’s weird to watch your friends shove stuffed alligators into their mouths), when he flung it at my face.

It was soaking wet.

I shrieked and he promptly grabbed it back, let me shriek for a bit, and threw it at my face again. After the third or fourth time of him doing this, my face was actually damp. I ran to the kitchen to wipe his saliva off of my face, and upon returning, he had gone upstairs with the alligator.

The alligator didn’t come back down with him, so I thought that he put it in his room. That is, until I noticed how pleased he looked.

He was way too satisfied.

I bolted up the stairs.

This, ladies and gentlemen, greeted me:


That is my laptop, and my French homework, and my beautiful new desk, with his saliva-covered alligator on it.

Kelsey: You ASSHOLE! You are so GROSS, CHRIS!

The boys are killing themselves with laughter downstairs, and when I return, Chris is positively beaming.

Kelsey: What the hell.

Doyle: At least I’ve started to put my own stuff in my mouth now. (Chris has a history of putting my belongings in his mouth, by the by. I won’t go into details.)

As I’m sitting in the armchair next to him downstairs, visibly perturbed, there is a silence. Then:

Kelsey: You… you rubbed your saliva on my face today.

Doyle: And I have a fever.

I stare at him. He grins.


Doyle: Aww, but why?

I think he was actually sincere with that one, because a couple minutes later he followed me upstairs to ask me if I’d seen the new Taylor Swift video.

Doyle: HEY. Have you seen the new Taylor Swift video?

Kelsey: There are furries, I know, Emily showed me.

Doyle: One of them winked at me and I felt uncomfortable.

Kelsey: Okay.

Doyle: I just thought you should know that.

Kelsey: Okay.

Doyle: Once she did a music video with T-Pain and she was rapping and stuff, but about lots of girly things, like doing her hair and makeup, but she was all, “BUT I’M STILL THUG” and T-Pain rapped behind her and it was awesome. At the end they bleeped something out that she said, but it wasn’t even a swear word, and she seemed all upset and stuff, and T-Pain ended the video and her name was T-Swizzle.

Kelsey: I… T-Swizzle?

Doyle: T-Swizzle.

He actually is pretty sick/exhausted. I would feel worse if he hadn’t nearly taken my eye out with a pillow earlier.

“Know how we should test out the new knives?”

Chris Dyck and I were responsible today and bought a set of really nice new knives.

The boys tested them out by playing fruit ninja in the backyard with one throwing the fruit (that we got in our welcome basket from the Co-op today… fitting), and the other slashing at it wildly as it hurtled through the air.

In the dark.

I don’t know if it unsettles me less or more that they cut just about everything cleanly in half.

“This is a democracy.”

When I came home from work the other day, the boys were making dinner. This sounds like a nice surprise, which it was.

For all of about five minutes.

I had just enough time to think, “Aww, how sweet-“, and then, this:

What. The. Fuck.

I just stop. This giant, glowing rectangle is on top of the T.V. It is bigger than the T.V. I instantly feel this overwhelming sense of dread that’s slowly turning into a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, because when I take a closer look:

You have got to be kidding me.

Kelsey: What, is that?

Doyle: Art.

Kelsey: It’s bigger than the T.V.

Doyle: And better than the T.V.

Kelsey: It’s not staying there.

Doyle: I think it is.

Kelsey: No, it’s not.

Doyle: I think it looks nice and is perfect for the living room. Right, Chris?

Dyck: I… I actually like the lighting from it.

Doyle: You’ve been outvoted. Two to one, it stays. This is a democracy.

I kept myself contained as much as possible.

We had dinner in the warm glow of the hideous Molson Canadian sign, which could probably be made into some sort of metaphor for how the rest of the year is going to go.

By that I mean that I’m going to have to be drunk.

Very, very drunk.

UPDATE: The Molson Canadian sign is no longer in the living room, but safely in the pantry where it will no longer burn the retinas of our unsuspecting guests. Surprisingly, getting it taken off the T.V. was more of a matter of politics than accidentally shattering it while cleaning. Now? Not necessary.

I’m actually a little disappointed about that, to be honest.

However, the day after the Molson Canadian sign died, I went into the bathroom and there was this:

Some sort of ammunition container? I don’t even know anymore.

I just left it. At least this thing doesn’t glow.