Thursday, April 01, 2004

A paean to Angela: Angela is significant to me because she comprises exactly 50% of the readership of this blog. I also like her because she has darn good shoes. Shoes, dear reader, are important.

Angela was born in 1983. The next 20 years of her life proceeded rather uneventfully. All this changed in 2004 when she fell in love with her pony-tailed teacher, whose name has been changed for his own protection. We'll just call him Dick Price.

Angela's journal entry on Dick Price is worth quoting in full:

dick price is still hot. he just walked by. when someones arse is a work of art, jubilation consumes my being. go price go, work the hallway, buchanan c is your building, baby, yeah. strut like you own this bitch. thats it. you walk on up to that office, takin the stairs, workin that arse. you know youre beautiful, dont you. cant be more of a sexy beast than this, can you. dr. price?

With such finely honed prose, Angela is well on her way to becoming the star reporter of the New York Times -- or the Globe and Mail, whatever floats her boat. We were just discussing the desirability of seducing Dr. Price when Angela utterred the following words of wisdom:

angela: part of me wants to shag him just once
angela: but another part of me says why not shag him many times
me: a part of you is very logical
angela: but lets say we shag
angela: then after weve done the nasty in his office or whatever
angela: he'll say something sexy and liberal constructivist
angela: and I'll get attached


Angela has a glow in the dark Jesus to give her direction in life. She also has a potted plant named Jurgen that give her oxygen. Both are equally important.

Angela likes diamonds. But what about all the little kids laboring in mines in Sierra Leone to provide diamonds to the western world, I ask? Screw the kids, she replies.This one goes with my dress. Angela is heartless like that.

Lately, Angela has been getting more and more conservative. Its quite disturbing. Maybe Jurgen isn't giving her enough oxygen. I'm starting to be afraid that the next time I see a picture of her room, it will have a giant Stephen Harper portrait in the center...

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