i am loved. thanks.

hello friends.

so i am a quarter century old today. wow. doesn't feel much different than i did yesterday, except now i realize that the next milestone is 30 and that number doesn't seem at all as fun as 25.

i can't imagine that someday i will be 40...50...60. that i will be in an old folks home grabbing the male orderly's butts and trying to start up a food fight in the bingo hall. its a strange and surreal thought. you always know that you will get old someday . . . but if you think about it, it sucks a lot. or does it? i don't want to be confined to a wheelchair or have demensia or cancer or some other horrible thing. it makes me want to grab life more now and go and travel around the world and move my little legs while i still can . . . but work and life seems to get in the way of that. oh well.

a huge thanks to all of my brave friends who came out to my very wet birthday shindig yesterday. i think my feet are now webbed, but hey, it was worth it. i appreciate the sacrifices you all made in the muddy muddy field, adn the fact that your shoes are probably ruined now, not to mention your pants and perhaps our carpet. but it was definitly worth it for me to feel special. just kidding. sort of. i wish we had pictures, but alas. funny how my clothes were still soaking wet this morning. wow.

i have eaten so much cake and sugar i think my body is going into shock. but it feels so good . . .

hey . . . i just saw an updog.

i'm done

So apparantly none of my highly-educated friends listen to CBC radio, 'cause I was on it. Yeah. I touched the Governor General. I am so cool. I haven't even washed my hand since. She was very strong and confident and approachable. And CBC thought me articulate enough to talk about her on the radio, but then decided to cut my 2 minute interview into a 5 second sound byte. SICK! But that's ok. It was fun anyway.

Hmm. Strange days. Yesterday Odie's mom and dad and brother and grandpa and 3 family friends and one stranger got stuck in our elevator for awhile on our floor. It was sort of funny at first, but then got a little bit heinous. 8 people in our small elevator for awhile. odie and zac and i sat outside in the hallway for a bit, talking to them when we could (they were at our floor, but the door wouldn't open). They were there for an hour, which upset me 'cause its not like odie's grandpa is a young guy. and the stranger lady from the 6th floor was very upset and crying and stuff. not cool. i feel pretty guilty about all of this, and a bit upset at our stupid elevator and the fact that it took 10 minutes for the caretaker to finally come and "check out the situation" and THEN call the repair guy. ridiculous. They couldn't take our word for it on the phone, apparantly, and call the repair guy right away. Stupid. That made me super mad. So he came up and yelled, "Can you press the 8th floor button? Can you press main? OK. Its not working. I'll call the repair guy." As if they wouldn't have thought of that. "oh, maybe we should push a button here and something would happen." if that were me i would be continuously pushing all of the buttons in case something could happen. ridiculous.

i had something to say, but can't think about it now. but that's ok. i guess. hopefully it will come again.

thanks for reading.
bre

my name is bre
i am a flea
i need to pee
oh whoa is me

Oppression

so i walked up and down spence st. yesterday . . . i had a good reason, though, and saw all of the bands that the Coalition To Save the Elms put out on the elm trees. And I was walking and looking and noticed that every single band had like at least 50 months stuck to them, who died a horrible sticky death.

i am considering establishing a Coalition to Save the Moths.

gross

What’s the deal with strangers calling me sweetie and dear? Does this happen to everybody? Am I simply excessively cute? Why do people with whom I only have a one-sentence conversation feel that they have the right to think I am their sweetie?

Ridiculous. And not only with men, but women too which makes me even more uncomfortable because now I am just more confused than ever.

Oh well. My friends are one thing, but weird strangers. Old men are the grossest and the worst at thinking that they have a personal right to my life and my body.

Whoa. This is now a rant.

Something positive . . . got to say something positive . . . nope. Nothing.

martha stewart is still 63 years old

ok, i'm back but probably have to run away on short notice.

i learned today that martha stewart is 62 years old. holy scheninie. she is one hot mama. it was good to see her become a bit frustrated and almost angry on the apprentice yesterday. she seems far too perfect. why does everybody think that she is still so sweet? she's a criminal. sure, she didn't bite any heads off of children or anything, but she still broke the law. but canada still wants her to fly over so that she can canoe a pumpkin across the lake.

i don't understand.

anyway, she's hot. i'm sexually confident enough to say that. and i hope i look twice as good as her when i am old.

its a bit unfair, though, that rich people don't seem to have to grow old. sure, plastic surgury looks stupid, but it should be available to all, even if they work at mcdonalds. or menno simons college. i'm so tired of oppression.

62 years old. holy crap. how old is donald trump? how old is his toupee? really. for a billionaire you think he could afford something that doesn't look like a dead muskrat.

i wonder if people who have beards keep snacks in them just in case of a nuclear war.

some guy from ontario got into the world record book today, simply because he had a nipple hair that was almost 9 cm long. and apparantly he was complaining that people made fun of him too much. then CUT IT OFF. he obviously is not that smart. but kudos to him for getting in the record books before me. it will seriously devestate my friends to know that i am planning to go for the record in "most disgusting fungai-infested toenail ever." but eat it.

martha stewart is 63 years old

i was a bit offended today when i saw there were no comments posted for my blog, but was a bit more forgiving when i realized that nobody actually knows that i have one.

hmm. my inspiration to upkeep this blog comes from my good and wonderful and kind and good-smelling friend Janie who at times begs me to send her my thoughts on random stuff.

like . . . how can a hamburger bring me closed captioning on a TV show? I never knew cow carcass was so socially concerned.

but good for the cow carcass. everybody should care half as much.

i have a million things to say, but alas, just got called away to help work at the front desk.