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Today on Facebook various people uploaded Nash pics
(Canadian University Press National Conference)
http://www.cup.ca/word/
I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that a) facebook was not around when I was a nasher and b) digicams were still somewhat exotic, as in, not everyone and their dog had one.
Four years of me drunk and stumbling through various snow filled climes (Newfoundland. Heels. January. Drunk at 5am with Mr. Nestruck and we ran away from the Safety Patrol. The barkeeps made us PINTS of white russians, and somehow we avoided a paddywagon), Edmonton. Powerplant. "NO REALLY I WANT A F&%@$ING COW CARVED OUT OF TOFU DON, YOU PROMISED!" and of course [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] orchestrating a plennary session to sing "go shorty, it's your birthday!" while I stood there hungover in pajamas totally baffled until I realized OMGWTFBBQ IT IS MY BIRTHDAY! could have been ALL OVER the net for the world to see.
Not even mentioning when we got the doorman (at a freakin' four star hotel) to roll a joint because we were all too baked. And then Safety came and yelled at us. For not inviting them to partake.
Oh then there was getting dressed for the formal dinner at Montreal Nash (Hey [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]... Wassup? :-D)
I am so glad my uni years went unrecorded, for the most part.
My only regret was I was not present for the infamous Vancouver bash in which an entire hotel suite had to be renovated and we were declared "worse than Motley Crue." Hawt.
(Canadian University Press National Conference)
http://www.cup.ca/word/
I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that a) facebook was not around when I was a nasher and b) digicams were still somewhat exotic, as in, not everyone and their dog had one.
Four years of me drunk and stumbling through various snow filled climes (Newfoundland. Heels. January. Drunk at 5am with Mr. Nestruck and we ran away from the Safety Patrol. The barkeeps made us PINTS of white russians, and somehow we avoided a paddywagon), Edmonton. Powerplant. "NO REALLY I WANT A F&%@$ING COW CARVED OUT OF TOFU DON, YOU PROMISED!" and of course [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] orchestrating a plennary session to sing "go shorty, it's your birthday!" while I stood there hungover in pajamas totally baffled until I realized OMGWTFBBQ IT IS MY BIRTHDAY! could have been ALL OVER the net for the world to see.
Not even mentioning when we got the doorman (at a freakin' four star hotel) to roll a joint because we were all too baked. And then Safety came and yelled at us. For not inviting them to partake.
Oh then there was getting dressed for the formal dinner at Montreal Nash (Hey [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]... Wassup? :-D)
I am so glad my uni years went unrecorded, for the most part.
My only regret was I was not present for the infamous Vancouver bash in which an entire hotel suite had to be renovated and we were declared "worse than Motley Crue." Hawt.
