Ooga booga. The bleeding in my mouth has stopped, thankfully, although it is still very sore and pretty swollen. My dad laughed at me and told me I look like a friend of his (a political strategist with the Progressive Conservative party in Ontario) who is apparently quite jowly. Or, as the Squidge put it, "[my] cheeks are bigger than [my] forehead." Heh. I had a bunch of gauze in my mouth and it made me lisp and I felt like the girl in the south park movie: "I'm gonna go listhen to my Britney Shpearsh records."

I apologize for all the gratuitous South Park movie references as of late. I don't know what's gotten into me, aside from most of the songs from that movie, which seem to rotate around in my head.

Today was a mostly uneventful day. The Squidge went to a Girl Guide camp in Brantford (or somewhere that starts with a B). I still have not heard from Bell Canada, but the interview went mostly well, except apparently the job involves some highway driving. (A problem for those of us who, like me, don't actually have their licenses). It's also apparently not fulltime, which makes it no good for me. Man, how about the phone interview though--it made me feel like such a tool.

I ate my first solid food today (spaghetti and sauce and some cheese) and it wasn't too bad though my mouth hurts if I try to open it too wide.

Kitana and I are supposed to watch Life As A House tomorrow, which I am really looking forward to, 'cause I haven't seen her in ages. I haven't seen anyone in ages.

I really hope this whole stupid OPSEU thing works out ASAP. The picket line crossing thing is apparently causing a good deal of unrest in certain circles. While it may be cowardly to list self-preservation as one of my reasons for not crossing, it is there nonetheless and I can't help that. And, dare I say it, it seems to me to be a rational response, even. I am one of those sick people who wants to be liked. I can't help that.

Best picket line slogan as of late: "If I wanted 2%, I'd buy milk." Hee.

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