One Sunday night whilst I was in Montreal for the Explore program, my homosexual friend Abraham suggested we go into The Village and experience one of the men-only strip joints, since it hosted ladies night every week on the Lord’s Day (hah!) $5 Cover at Campus gains you entry into some basic stripping, albeit by some extremely hot men. Some of them were hot. Other’s Abraham and I decided looked like they probably ate babies for breakfast because of their ‘roid problems. Ick.

We thought it would be funny to get lap dances too, since we were there. I had heard from other chicklets in my French program who had gone to straight strip clubs that they just danced near you, they couldn’t touch you and you couldn’t touch them. Not so much a problem at Campus, apparently. The first words my stripper (my stripper, lol) said to me were ‘you can touch me anywhere’. I did not take him up on this offer. He, on the otherhand, attempted to do things that HE would have to pay ME for. I was kind of revolted. And he made me smell like cologne for the rest of the night, which was gross, because I’m a girl and I don’t particularily like smelling like a dude.

And thus ended my adventure at the strippers.

Whatever.

It got something off of my list.

306. Go to the strippers

Regardless, I guess I’m proud of myself. I think I was just more excisted for retarded photo-ops.


#350. Graduate with a BA

Now to spend the rest of the day packing for the annual weeklong trip to Kingston, ON.

Sometimes life does laugh at you. Not with you. Just at you.

In other news, I updated my list a bit. I saw Marilyn Manson live, which was just terrible, but I did it. It would be been better categorized under “Thanks, But No Thanks” in hindsight. I have to decide what to do next on my list.

I suppose I am heading to Kingston in around a month, but I have been to Kingston several times. Hell, I lived there for almost ten years. I am desparately trying to convince my mom to go somewhere (anywhere!!) with me over a weekend or after our trip to Kingston but she is very reluctant (much to my dismay). I know I only have 60 or summers left on this planet and it depresses me to some extent this one has been somewhat wasted so far. 6 weeks left before September brings around a new semester of school, I better make the most of it. Roadtrip anyone?

I’m sitting here writing a paper that looks at the development of abortion rights in Latin America from a religious and colonial perspective. I don’t want to be writing this paper. I hate the fact I have to write this paper. I want to be in Latin America, not writing about it. Sitting on a beach, laying in a hammock, wandering the streets looking for something delicious to devour. Joining a group fighting for reproductive justice. Not writing about it so one guy can read it, grade it, and forget about it. After about every three sentences I write for my paper, I pop open Firefox and immerse myself in a travel blog, search a cheap fares website, or just look at pictures of exotic and beautiful places. I come back from day dreaming and hammer out the rest of a paragraph. I’m backpedaling, misfiring, completely lost in my own life.

If life is a highway, I’ve been stuck at a filthy truck stop for the last 5 years of my life.

The periods in between traveling are pretty much terrible.
I have absolutely nothing planned that will fulfill anything on my list. I guess in a month I am seeing a live comedy show, but that is about it until December 27th, when I hit Mexico (or Cuba?)

I want to say that I’m not dead, but it certainly doesn’t feel like I am living at the current moment.