:: Vegas, baby ::

Booked my trip for Vegas today, so in 18 days I'll be in the desert, losing all my money, staying up real, real late, and drinking for free.

And, most importantly, it's a few days away from work. Score.

Sidenote: The weekend before I leave is my birthday, so we're goin' drinking. It'll be low-key; there will be no party buses necessary, but we're goin' drinking. Just so you know.

And, now, here's these, which I've been saving a few weeks:

"She's a judger. I call her Philip Banks." - Buchs, talking about A-Scrams

"You're a pretty girl, why do you screw it up by making that ugly face?" - Buchs again, likely about Amanda...again.

Amanda: Everything is sharing...sharing, sharing, sharing!
Sean: If Rachel ever said that to me I'd share a slap with her.

and after we bugged Buch about this excessive "sharing" with Amanda...
Amanda: You think that's bad? Tell him about our joint account.
Buchs: It's a change jar.

Me (when Scott didn't show up to eat sushi with us): Scott's noodles are gonna be cold.
Kels: Scott's noodle is gonna be cold for a long time if he doesn't smarten up.

"I can't believe we used to call you 'Hot Sean' - you're such a weiner." - Amanda

"It's minority central. Why don't they jut bring in a Chinaman, too?" - Buchs, with his take on the Democratic leadership race.

After it was discovered that Sean was at Ian's house sans Rachel, who was on the Island...
"It's weird, that's all. It's just like if Chris is somewhere, Jenna's probably there too. Or if there's Scott, you know Kelsey will be there, or if there's Nick, you know nobody will be there." - Buchs

Ouch.

:: Tales from the Vault ::

Remember a few months back, when I wrote about my love of Sports Illustrated? And more specifically, I wrote about that long-lost SI article about the cross-country team tragedy, and how I'd searched high and low, near and far, but could not find a copy of it.

Well, SI has recently unveiled my absolute new favourite (non-pornographic) website: The SI Vault. And of course, the first thing I searched for was that damn article. Which I found right here.

Now, because it was so long since I'd read it, my memories of the story - which I'd written about in my original post - were a little bit off. It was a university running team, not a high school one. And there isn't one sole survivor, but, well...go read it. You'll see.

Sad/lame/nerdy as it is, finding this article has pretty much made my night (Aside from the amusing, early-evening encounter with some stupid woman who tried to sell my orthodics for my shoes while I was in the middle of a run. Seriously.)

But that's a story for another day.

For now, if you've got some time, go read that. I was 20 years old when that story was written, and it's Exhibit 1A of why do what I do, when - at the time - all I really wanted to do was quit school and come home.

"I'm not cheap - I'm poor! There's a difference." - Kels

Me (pointing to Ian's big, ugly belt buckle): Ian, what the hell does it say on that buckle?
Ian: North American Construction Group.
Me: Uhh..why are you wearing it?
Ian: I'm representin'.

"Ahh, fuck, now we've gotta go to Jenna's house. Nick, hit me over the head with this bottle so we can go to the hospital instead." - Chris, who wanted to just go home after the Canucks game instead of over to visit one of Jenna's mom's friends.

Brian: Whoa! Chris, that was the most affection I've ever seen you show towards your girlfriend.
Chris: It was a headlock.