Attention Facebookers: Your status is gay and no one gives a shit.

Alright, so first and foremost, I would like to sincerely apologize for my recent disappearance from Jamal's Corner. I had a rather intense schedule of eating, watching endless hours of "Say Yes to the Dress" and other intellectual television programs on Slice (such as "Wedding SOS" and "The Last Ten Pounds") or spending time with my cat this summer, and found it very challenging to pay the corner a visit. However, now that I have hundreds and hundreds of pages to read on politically and economically underdeveloped nations and the film and television industry in Canada (yes, they do in fact exist) I have no problem returning to Jamal's corner for some casual offensive and highly warranted bitching. Today's topic: people who change their facebook status to the most gayest, lamest, pathetic, irrelevant and uninspiring things. It's going to take me some time to fully break down and explore the plethora of categories to which I am so politely (not) referring. Let's start with the very personal things, including emotions, experiences and everyday happenings of life of which people feel the need, for whatever reason, to share with the rest of their facebook friends. Example 1: the activities in which you are participating that day, or activities in which you already participated that day, such as, "Just had a delicious breakfast now off to work 3-11, then movies to see Inception, bbm me!" Jesus Christ, no one gives a shit, like REALLY. AT ALL. The only information even possibly relevant or useful to me in that status would be pertaining to the fact that that person will be at the movies that night some time after 11:00 pm, and I should hence avoid going so as to prevent an encounter with such a loser. That may sound alarmingly harsh, but seriously, no one cares. And if someone does actually care, and is compelled to either "like" or comment on such a ghastly facebook status, then that person is now equally, and quite possibly more lame. The only acceptable things to put in one's status relating to the events occurring during one's day, include if you're leaving for an interesting or exciting trip such as a shopping excursion to Buffalo, New York or Canada's Wonderland (totally kidding). I'm referring to exotic and actually exciting destinations such as Italy or Brazil or the Antarctic; that is something I would like to hear about- not the new high score you achieved playing Guitar Hero that day or that you went to Cora's for a yummy brunch with the girls! lolz! Other acceptable statuses: if you won the lottery, if you got a new pet (cute!), new cell phone number (people need to know that), if you got a blackberry and now have a *pin*, if your sister, brother, or any other close relative recently gave birth to a new human, if you're hosting a pool party that evening or if you graduated university- those things are fine to include in your facebook status. Now onto other things that are NOT okay to include in your facebook status: things relating to a relationship with your girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other/boo/hubby/sugar momma/sugar daddy/fuck buddy/best friend. No one gives a shit if you got dumped, and if you make your facebook status "So heartbroken, don't know how I'll ever recover from this" you are so gay and probably deserved to have been kicked to the curb. What does one expect to happen when he or she changes their facebook status to something like that? No one is going to "like" a status that reads, "So lonely, just lost the love of my life" or "Oh my god I hate you, you will regret losing me, I am so over you, asshole." Wow. Wow. WOW. First of all, a facebook status similar to the ones above are just so awkward, because people probably know the person to which such a status is addressed due to the fact that that person's facebook profile also states who he or she is in a relationship with, so it is VERY clear to whom they are referring. Furthermore, why would you want to promote the fact that your boyfriend or girlfriend cheated on you and that you hate them? Are you expecting someone to "like" that? It is simply awkward, seriously TMI and so uncomfortable for people to read. I understand that you may be upset, furious and want to let that person who broke your heart know how you feel, but let's remember that irrational actions have consequences, so, unless you wish to look like a retard or you want to make others uncomfortable, then please, refrain from changing your facebook status to something relating to your pathetic break-up- we're already going to be reading on our homepage that so and so ended their relationship and that so is now "single." Also, for all you catty bff'l's out there, if you get into a big fight with your best friend PLEASE refrain from changing your facebook status to something along the lines of, "Bitch, I fucking hate you, we are so done," or "Just when you thought you knew someone, all trust is now lost." Once again, nobody cares. These are all personal things that when broadcasted publicly on something such as facebook, will cause unnecessary drama and conflict and will also cause people to raise their eyebrows at such petty and lame behavior. The next thing I would like to harshly criticize in relation to people's statuses on facebook is when people feel compelled to insert the lyrics from Top 40 songs directly in their status. The one that comes to mind the most is this summer's hit song "Airplanes." Soon after this song came out "I could really use a wish right now..." was blowing up my facebook homepage as the status of so many people. Like, why? Just, why? What are you trying to express? That you like the song and it's stuck in your head? Newsflash: that's happening to 500 million other people who aren't deaf. Another popular song that made it into statuses of so many lost souls was Jay-Z's and Alicia Keys' number one hit "Empire State of Mind." The fact that people changed their facebook statuses AND the title of facebook albums to lyrics from this song is terribly troubling. I mean, why? What is the fucking point? So foolish. You may be reading this while simultaneously thinking to yourself that I have no right to attack innocent and most likely very kind people and the history of their facebook statuses, when I, myself, have had recent facebook statuses such as "I finally have a pencil case" or "Super pumped about the homeless man's blood I had on my upper thight today." These are entirely pointless and irrelevant to anything whatsoever and that is what makes it acceptable for me to change my facebook status to such seemingly retarded things. The problem with other facebook users is that when they change their facebook status to something such as "TiK ToK" or "Just gonna stand there and watch me burn" or even worse, "too many times I have been fooled by you but no more," these people are one hundred percent serious and that makes them one hundred percent lame and in no way, should their facbook statuses be acceptable as publicly accessible information.

Exceprts from my 2005 Diary: PART 1

Alright, so I've decided to shake things up a bit and share with all of you some more excerpts from my alarmingly embarrassing journals from my tweenhood, however, this particular excerpt is from my 2005 journal. I have no idea how, but the excerpts from this journal, in which I am writing as a grade 10 high school student, are even more embarrassing and cringe-worthy than the excerpts from my journal two years prior. I am distressed to admit that I was living a sad life that consisted of an odd vocabulary, troubling priorities and a rather skewed perception of what was socially acceptable or "cool," possibly even normal, as a teenager. This particular excerpt, as mentioned above, is taken from my grade ten journal, and is the first entry, recorded on Monday, June 27, 2005. It appears that I have taken a break from packing for a trip to jot down some of my most insightful and pressing thoughts. Later in the entry, I confess something of which even I found shocking. I would like to point out that nothing has been modified, and this excerpt is unfortunately presented in an identical fashion to that of the original copy in my pink journal, apart from the alteration of certain people's names .

"Ahh, a new journal, how lovely is this! And Kacey's gone to camp so I won't have to hide you 24/7. I must admit this journal is quite snazzy. So, I am in the midst of packing for the best trip of my life: SAN DIEGO!! I'm going with my soccer team, I can't wait. We fly out this Wednesday @ 9:00 am and we're going to Los Angeles and from there we're driving to San Diego. And tonight is the biggest game of our lives! At 8:30 we're playing St. Catherines. Oh man I'm nervous, but pumped. Except, I won't have my contacts , which sucks, but I'm getting them tomorrow for San Diego, so it's alright. Anyway, school's out for the summer, as of last Friday! WOOT! It felt so good to be done my exams...yah, I had three of them, poooo! But this summer is going to be amazing. But back to the trip, I am so bad at packing. I can't put any outfits together until the last minute, let alone a week before. I'm just packing a variety of my nicest clothes and keeping my fingers crossed! Me, Kelly (1 of 3 best friends), Emily and Katie are all sharing a room at the hotel for 5 nights. That's a lot when you think about it. Oh wait, it's actually 6 nights, oh man! Emily's great, but her mom is the female version of Hitler. No joke. Every ten minutes she'll be in our room checking up on us. Cool! My mom isn't coming, she's still at school. Teachers don't get out until the 29th or 30th. Anyway, I need to get away from my mom for a nice little week. Just a small break, not like she doesn't need it either. But anyway, shes going to kill me soon enough. I'm just starting the pill (no, I'm not having SEX yet) and it's only a matter of time until she finds out. I'm so sneaky though. The birth control has so many bonuses. Apart from the fact that I might gain 10 pounds (hopefully it goes right to my chest) it's going to clear up my acne and regulate my period. I do feel bad though for lying to my doctor and to my mom. Oh well, sometimes a girl just has to take matters into her own hands. Sucks though if this backfires. How? In what way? I don't know but with me something always goes wrong. But I'm trying to be positive. My god, it's hot! I'm going to collapse tonight at the game. Ohh, the game, I almost forgot! I'm going to continue packing and drink some water. Bye!"

I didn't realize how mortifying it was until I was actually typing it out. What a terribly sad life I had as a teenage/human being in general. To think that going to San Diego would be "the best trip of my life" is truly worrisome. I mean, really? And I'm really happy that having outfits picked out for "the best trip of my life" was something that actually induced stress in my life. As I recall though, soccer at this time in my life was in fact the center of my universe. My summers literally revolved around my soccer team, League Cup and life-changing trips south of the border. I was convinced I was the next Mia Hamm. Thus, my apparent intensity and passion, including sentiments of nervousness and "pumpedness," are very understandable. Although I sound somewhat like a enormous loser, I do recall how important soccer was to me and am able to accept using phrases such as "Oh, man" and "I'm pumped" when talking about soccer. However, as a twenty-one year-old looking back at other parts of this excerpt, in particular the ones addressing my new prescription to the "pill," I am beyond ashamed and will continue to cringe every time I read it. As I recall, I was convinced that the only way to banish my acne was to take "matters into my own hands" and start using the pill, something of which a friend told me would solve my skin woes. Furthermore, I'm really glad to know that gaining ten pounds and "hoping that it goes to my chest" was one of my top concerns about starting the pill, and not something along the lines of I don't know, my mother finding out and jumping to the conclusion that her baby girl is some loose promiscuous tween- which, let me tell you, I definitely was not, I mean I was too busy playing soccer, right? Upon reading this entry, it appears that I went on the pill for the joint purpose of clearing my skin and augmenting my cup size. Regardless of my senseless reasoning, this news is appalling. My poor mother. Had she found out that her soccer superstar daughter had not only gone behind her back to their family doctor, but about something as serious as starting the birth control pill, she would have had a heart attack or a stroke. Jesus Christ I had a lot of nerve. I also find it rather alarming how quick I was to switch topics, and to have used such words as "snazzy" and "pooo," along with the unnecessary addition of o's. I am curious as to whether or not my sister, despite being away at camp for the summer, ever got her paws on my journal from 2005. I can only pray that she didn't because if I read something similar to this in her journal, I probably would have gone directly to my mother to report such foolish behavior and thinking. RIP my Grade Ten soul; may no one ever share an identical frame of mind.

Excerpts from my 2003 Diary: PART 1

I didn't think it was possible for me to have been as cool as I was back in the day, but the diary from 2003 of which I recently re-located confirms my maturity, sensible reasoning and intuition as a fourteen year-old living in Burlington, Ontario. The following is from a lovely tan journal given to me by my aunt for Christmas in 2003. Nothing has been altered except for the names of most people. I would also like to point out that I am still in contact with the majority of these people. This specific entry, as you will soon find out, was written on New Year's Day. I discuss a wide variety of events and topics, including the events of the night before, my hopes and dreams to start a rock band, my New Year's resolutions and boys.

"Me and Nicole stayed up talking last night until 4:15 am! It was insane and we got up at like 12:15. Anyways, I am like suddenly obsessed with Rock music (ever since I got the DVD Freaky Friday and ever since I saw the movie School of Rock). It's so much better than that rap crap! And I'm in two rock bands now. It's great. Me, Meg and Alana just formed one called *First Class* (I obviously came up with the name). And me, Ches, Meg, Lo, Cass and John are in one too. I'm actually just pretending to be in one with them, so is Meg. I stayed on the comp for two hours after Alana left, just listening to Rock. I love Three Days Grace!! Anyways, it's a brand new year. A fresh new start. My New Year's resolutions are to lose weight, be true to friends, get a job, manage my time more wisely and to live life to the fullest. Managing my time will be the hardest on the list, especially on days that I have sports. Anyways, Kacey came home from New York today. I got a Louis purse and handbag. They're so fake and you can tell but oh well. I also got a roxy purse, FCUK sweater (soo cool) and a roxy NYC shirt. Kacey got so spoiled, I'm crazy jealous. Anyways, I am so into Dylan. But he's so shy :(. If we go out, he better not be as shy, cause we would never talk. I really want to kiss him, he's so cute! But yah, I have to go read my Anne Frank book for English. I only have three days to finish it and do a book report. Wow, it's 1:35 am! I have to get up sooo early :(. Anyways, I'll write later, might not be until Saturday, I don't know."

I'm glad to know that my priorities in life at age fourteen were to lose weight, be true to friends and live life to the fullest. And manage my time more wisely. Unfortunately, *First Class* did not record any hits or go on tour. However, my friend Carly has a collection of home video recordings of herself, myself and other friends from that era dancing to S Club 7.

Tying the knot at 21: Do or Don't?

It has recently come to my attention that more and more people these days are choosing to marry at a young age. Although getting married at the ripe age of sixteen used to be the norm in society, ever since the woman transitioned into the working, powerful and ambitious woman, society began to see a pattern in which women were getting married much later into their 20s and even 30s. In 2010, that trend, it would seem, has taken yet another turn. Married couples are becoming significantly younger once again. Celebrities especially have decided that life is simply too short, why wait? Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt are just one example of a celebrity couple that chose to tie the know at an extremely young age, and we all saw how that turned out- Spencer became extremely aggressive and exhibited puzzling and perplexing behavior, while Heidi proceeded to have part of her back removed in attempt to heighten her appeal, as well as quadruple her breast size (if we can even call those planets on her chest 'breast'). The fact that their choice to wed at an early age not only led them to an overly predictable divorce, but that it also destroyed the public's perception of them as individuals (Heidi is now commonly referred to as an alien with boobs and Spencer is now the angry midget with frosted tips) is reason enough to chill out on dishing those vows. You're probably wondering what prompted me to write about young couples getting married? It lately came to my attention that two individuals with whom I attended High School recently became engaged. For obvious reasons, such as the fact that I myself, am the same age as these individuals and have only ever had one relationship with someone of the opposite sex OR the fact that I currently live with my MOTHER, I found this information quite alarming. I mean, really? At age 21, you are totally positive that you are done scoping the scene, trying different flavors, and are ready to settle down, FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, with your current boo? I mean, this is marriage we are talking about, not some all-inclusive vacation to Mexico for a week of sex and pina coladas. I'm not sure if these couples are aware that while their friends will be out dancing and taking body shots off of the opposite sex (or same sex, you never REALLY know these days what people are feeling) you and your husband or wife will be sitting at home watching re-runs of 7th Heaven, trying to decide which episodes are appropriate for your future children to watch. Or the two of you might be at Home Depot picking out tiles for your kitchen- for which your parents are probably paying. Even worse, a few years down the road, let's say three years into your marriage, you may have popped out a baby or two. I'd like to clarify that at this point, you are 24 years old, married (and to someone who probably used be very attractive but due to the comfort level that now exists between the two of you, has probably let themselves entirely go and now pains you to look at and be reminded that they are your spouse) and now have children. So, while you are breastfeeding your child or cleaning up his or her fresh vomit, your friends are out clubbing, out for dinner, shopping or having crazy intense sex with someone they met on a beach in Bali. You probably haven't even had sex since your baby was conceived due to the fact that you've put on thirty pounds and decided that brushing your hair was no longer a priority and your husband can't even stand to look at you, let alone climb on top of your naked fat body. Apart from the fact that getting married at a very young age completely defaces your social life in every possible way (trust me, no one my age would go out for drinks with a married couple the same age- that would be as painful and as awkward and as featureless as their wedding day), your wedding would probably suck and be entirely unmemorable due to the fact that you are TWENTY-ONE and have absolutely no finances to pay for your wedding, let alone any knowledge to plan a wedding. Yes, as the young bride, you may have watched re-runs of "Say Yes to the Dress" but unfortunately Fairweathers doesn't sell wedding dresses. And your paycheck from Manchu Wok isn't quite enough to buy you a wedding dress that won't have you cringing when you look at your wedding album ten years from now- that is to say, if you and your spouse even last ten years, which is doubtful. Marriage at twenty-one is just not feasible, I simply do not see the logic anywhere. Number one: you are poor and lack the necessary knowledge to plan and host a wedding. For many individuals, their wedding day is the most important day of their lives and it should be made as special and as memorable as possible. The only memorable image of a young couple's wedding that I can conjure is the bride passing out after a few too many wine coolers. Number two reason for which you should avoid getting married at the age of twenty-one: you are so young and should be enjoying all that life as a twenty-something has to offer. I am not suggesting that one should break up with a serious boyfriend or girlfriend who may in fact be possible spouse potential, I am simply arguing that one should not be substituting body shots, foreign flings or alcohol-induced bad decisions for diapers, daycare or movie nights. If you're madly in love with someone then just wait it out, there is no harm whatsoever in doing that. Trust me, no matter how cool or "fun" you and your spouse may in fact be, once you're married at age twenty-one, none of that will matter. You are now old and weird and no one will want to hang out with you. And if your wedding doesn't have an open bar, I wouldn't expect myself or anyone else under 30 to show up. Tying the knot at 21 is a definite and very pronounced "Don't."

The ups and downs of temporary unemployment.

Before I begin, I would like it to be known that I am not forever unemployed and that this fantasy world in which I am currently residing is just temporary- I officially get off my idle ass as of June 20th. For now, however, and since my return to the suburbs of the GTA, I have been, for lack of a better term, a bum. I have been on a thirteen-day vacation. I wake up every morning around 9:30 am by choice (after an untroubled sleep averaging ten to eleven hours- the result of going to bed at the elderly hour of 11:00 pm), make myself a very flavorful and nourishing smoothie (courtesy of a wide selection of fresh fruit, yogurts and juices- all of which I did not pay for), relax either on the couch while channel surfing some of the most wretched morning television to exist or curl up on my porch with my latest novel. After I've digested my wonderful smoothie it's time for my daily exercise: a run along the gloriously polluted Lake Ontario. Seeing as everyone else in society is at work during this time, my runs are peaceful, uninterrupted and judge-free (thanks to a deviated septum and the fact that air enters and exits only one of my nostrils- sexy, right?- I often fall short of oxygen and emit sounds and noises similar to that of a dying bird). I return from my runs feeling both tired and alive, yes, all at the same time. I then spend some time on my living room floor with Jane Fonda from the early 1980s, toning my inner and outer thighs, buttocks, and abdominal muscles. When I turn Jane off, it's time for a nice shower and then a well-deserved lunch. By the time I've eaten my lunch, cleaned up and downloaded the latest episode of Vampire Diaries (Season 1), I'm usually quite exhausted and before I can do anything else, I need a good nap to recharge my batteries. Upon waking up from the most serene one to two hours of my day, it is time to spend some quality time with Ninja Video, my cat and the undeniably appealing cast of Vampire Diaries. By the time I get through two episodes, my mother comes home from work full of energy and conversation. She either starts making dinner or has to go to tennis or some other rendezvous, to which I am not invited (which is never a problem with me). Either way, I am bound to delight in a delectable dish, prepared by either myself or my mother. I always offer to clean up afterward- I mean it's the least I can do, right? These are all the "ups" of being unemployed; I have countless hours to spend as I wish, with little to absolutely no parental supervision, and nobody to make me feel guilty about it in any way. The "ups," however, come to a sudden halt just as the last of the kitchen counters are wiped down. My mother, who has a life and a job, either putters away in the garden for the remainder of the evening, locks herself in the dining room to mark schoolwork (she's an elementary school teacher) or jogs off to some fitness class at her gym. And so, I am alone again. However, it is not so blissful and carefree at this time. Why, you ask? I am suddenly oozing with guilt. Despite the fact that my mother is so happy to have me home and have someone else to talk to other than the cat, she casually reminds me, without fail, every night, in between bites at dinner, that I am making absolutely no money right now, not a cent. And she is so right. I have absolutely zero income at the moment, absolutely nothing. Now, that I am staying at home, with no bills to be paid and no groceries to be bought, this shouldn't lead to me losing sleep at night- and trust me, it doesn't- my means to go out and spend money do not exist. I do not have the financial cushioning to go out for dinner with friends, enjoy a few rounds of happy hour, go to Starbucks and pretend to enjoy an over-priced coffee, or go bowling. As a result of my temporary unemployment, my life and self-confidence no longer exist after 8 pm- nor does my social life. As I struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch (which was SO effortless earlier that day) my mind is racing with anxiety over poverty, idleness and self-doubt. I am no longer enjoying myself, I am suddenly bored, nervous and ashamed. I feel trapped on that couch, alone and afraid that this feeling will never go away. After watching a wide variety of crap on the television- crap that I used to be able to enjoy so easily- provided by either Slice, TLC or the Women's Channel (unusually fabulous by the way, just fabulous) I decide that I can no longer endure any more "downs" of temporary unemployment and decide to call it a night. I head upstairs with low spirits, brush my teeth, wash my face (meh, if I feel like it) and crawl into bed. I usually just lay there for a good five or ten minutes, reflecting on the failure I have become and I begin to panic over the possibility that I will forever lead an idle, undeserving and pathetic life. It isn't until I remember that I really want to know how Olivia, the main character in the novel I am presently reading, is doing and what type of conundrum she's gotten herself into, that I quickly push my woes to the back of mind and reach for my book. I turn my lights out about twenty minutes later and before dozing off into a splendidly long sleep, sigh a big sigh of relief knowing that I won't have to worry about a thing, more specifically my current and very temporary unemployment, until 8pm the next night.

Dogs: Are they really a man's best friend?

Ever heard the saying, "A dog is a man's best friend?" I'm going to assume that you're a member of society and that yes, you have in fact heard this saying at one time or another in your life. I'm going to argue here that not only do most dogs suck, but that they are actually the opposite of a man's best friend. Best friends do not expect you to feed them on a daily basis; best friends do not expect you to voluntarily pick up their warm, fresh feces without you even having to ask; best friends do not expect you to set time apart from your day, EVERY day to take them on walks (during which you will be expected to pick up their feces with your hands); best friends do not wake you up in the middle of the night because they have to take a piss; best friends do not eat your shoes (unless something is seriously wrong with them); best friends do not expect to make sure they're healthy by organizing yearly appointments with their doctor; best friends do not expect you to decipher what a loud "woof" or a soft "woof" actually means; best friends don't expect you to take time out of your day to throw various objects including sticks, balls or frisbees for them to chase after and retrieve. Nope, none of my best friends have ever made partake in any of the above- UNLESS, I was getting something in return. Dog lovers reading this may be entirely appalled by what I have just said. Some of you may be thinking, "Well, of course I get something in return for all of these things I do such as loyalty, love, protection and....friendship from my dog." Oh, you are a sad soul. Do you think your dog actually likes you? Do you think he respects you? He doesn't- he is simply hungry, striving for survival, and has become so accustomed to you as being the provider for things such as food, warmth and shelter that the illusion of him actually loving and needing you is so easily created. Are you really convinced that when you come home from work, errands or merely being away from the house for an extended period of time that when your dog comes dashing to the door, it is because he wants to talk about your day at work, or what you got up to on your lunch break, or how fresh the produce was at the grocery store? No, do not be silly. That dog is either hungry or has a full bladder and knows that you are the person who will be able to relieve these two things. Do you actually think the dog wants to chat about life? Catch up? Discuss current news? Wrong. And what about when most dogs (I say most and not all due to the fact that some dogs are so pathetically small and have no way of reaching) greet you by shoving their muzzle in between your legs? Is it normal for one's best friend to sexually violate them every time they see each other? I should hope not. Perhaps I will ignore the random boob graze or awkward butt rub with a best friend as a result of one too many cocktails, but on a regular basis? Absolutely not; no best friend of mine will be shoving their face in between my legs, forcing me to endure a form of sexual harassment and then expect me to pick up their poo. The concept that a dog is a man's best friend is simply absurd and idiotic. And to be quite frank, any human that actually does consider their dog to be their best friend has some pretty low standards when it comes to BFFs. You should be having fun with your best friend and partaking in fun activities such as parties, pedicures, going to the movies, going out for dinner or going shopping! Picking up your best friend's shit should definitely not be on that list.

Saying 'goodbye' is always hard; Hannah will be the hardest.

As my third year at McGill officially wraps up- my bags are packed, my last shifts at the Redbird Sports Shop have come and gone (which currently has no air conditioner and I'm basically sweating as much as R. Kelly at a six-year girl's birthday party) I am heading back to the homeland tomorrow for a glorious three months of home-cooked meals, curfews, chores and cable. From the second I stepped foot on McGill turf I have not been home for a period of time longer than two weeks. This is largely due to the fact that I have been continuously cursed with the worst exam schedule almost every December, an arduous sales position at American Apparel, and a summer spent in Banff which commenced only two short days after arriving home from first year, AND a summer spent in Montreal. Thus, my main point: my move back to the suburbs is a seriously big deal and it is stirring up some painfully conflicting emotions. The main attraction of 2349 Lakeshore is obviously my cat. She's usually so moody during my two week stints at home because she knows I'm just going to be leaving her shortly, so being home for an extended amount of time will really give us some time to work on our relationship. Leaving Montreal isn't going to be all that easy though. Just like my relationship with my cat, I've also created some very important and influential relationships in Montreal. My most cherished relationship in Montreal is not with my roommates (deal with it, Mere), my landlord, the bi-polar woman who lives above me or the man who curb-side masturbates in the ghetto- it is with Hannah, the lovely, charming and wholesome woman behind the counter of Super Dep. Hannah is literally an angel. There are so many positive things I could say about Hannah, as well as the wonders of Super Dep. For those of you non-ghetto residents, Super Dep, on the corner of Prince Arthur and Parc, is one of Milton Park's finest Depanneurs. With a wide variety of beer, wine coolers, liter bottles of the cheapest and most disgusting, yet appealing wine (in red, white and rose- my friend Jay's favourite), five-cent candy GALORE, the freshest sour keys on the block (trussst me- I would know), a respectable selection of one's basic groceries, magazines, gum and even some hygiene products for those of us who forget to regularly bathe (tragedy) Super Dep is all anyone could ask for. It simply is the best Dep, and I would start a petition for it to have its name officially changed to "Best Dep" but "Super" is the next best way to describe it. Now, onto Hannah. Hannah is one of the many Asians to work at the plethora of Deps in the ghetto and surrounding area, but I will argue here that she is easily my favourite Dep employee. She is ALWAYS in a good mood (with the exception of Friday and Saturday nights at around 10:50 pm with a rather large line-up of those ghetto residents who decided to go out last minute and needed some bReWz) and she is always smiling. On top of her genuinely caring and kind character, she is always looking out for the wallets of her loyal customers (like me.) When buying beer, my financial well-being is always one of her top priorities. She never lets me complete a transaction without letting me know that I could be getting the same kind of beer for less money if I were to simply switch from bottles to cans or a six-pack to a twelve-pack- she literally is heaven on earth. The amount of money she has saved me is unimaginable. Of course, all the money I have saved on beer has more than likely been spent on the holy goodness of Hannah's enormous selection of five-centers and sour keys- and long nibs, cannot forget the long nibs. I am more than happy though to spend an extra few dollars here and there at Super Dep, even if it means spending money I wouldn't have spent in the first place. Seeing as I frequent Super Dep, on average, about five times a week, my interactions with Hannah have become more personal over the last two years. She knows my name, she knows about my love affair with candy, she feels comfortable enough to comment on how tired I look sometimes (which, quite frankly, I could do without, I mean I own a mirror-but hey, honesty is always a good policy) and she knows I'm going to ask for cash back, so it's simply a matter of inquiring how much I'll need. This summer is going to be awfully strange with Hannah. "Deps" do not exist in the suburbs of Ontario. Sure, we have "convenience stores" but these do not sell beer or wine and the employees usually only allow two or three teens in the store at once (yes, I still consider myself a teen- it makes my crush on Justin Bieber more legit) and none of them provide the same customer service as Hannah. One thing I will not miss about Super Dep, however, is the male employee there (Hannah's brother, cousin or hubby maybe? I'm actually not sure). Regardless of the details of their relation, he sucks. He has requested that I only put twenty candies in a bag, and if I want more than twenty (which I always do, let's be serious) then I have to put them in another bag. Does he know how annoying that is??? I really should talk to Hannah about that come September.