eight years to the day

i’m going to jump to the conclusion that today is going to be a very quiet day on the internet thanks to all you south-of-the-forty-niners getting four days off to eat, shop and watch football, lucky bastards.
i used to get all annoyed that americans got four days off for thanksgiving while we, up here in canadia, only got three, then i realized that they only get one day off for xmas while we, in our lovely british wannabeism, get two thanks to the strange holiday known as the day of the boxes.
suddenly, i didn’t mind the four days of botched television programming and not talking to my absent american friends (because, really, who can understand someone with a turkey leg sticking out of their maw?). they didn’t know the joy of boxing day sales and getting to stay home for a whole TWO days in the middle of the cold and dark season. those poor bastards.
while the sweet potatoes are topped with marshmallows (diabetic special!) and the green beans sprinkled with fried onions (yay coronary!), i’m happily enjoying the knowledge that i don’t have to look at a single piece of C for an entire seven weeks.
yes, kids, my final exam has been written. i’ve received a pardon, albeit temporary, from the trauma which was C. although, if i did as badly as i predicted, i may be right back in the same class next term. i left twelve marks unanswered, so the absolute best i can hope for is 88%, but that’s like counting on running into your soulmate while sitting on the couch, eating captain crunch from the box, wearing your bunny pajamas and scratching your ass. it just ain’t gonna happen. i’ve crunched the numbers and the absolute best grade i can get is 83% the worst i can get, while still passing the course is 56%. i suppose i’ll be happy with whatever i get in between them.