It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and this is my Story

The fact that Seamus can be seen as a mentor and role model to a young puppy is rather disconcerting. My friend recently acquired an Australian Shepherd puppy and wished to socialize him with friendly older dogs. I decided against bringing The Clever One, as she is now in her golden years and would probably be less than enthused about the asperity of being in the presence of a young puppy. Seamus possesses no such convictions.

In fact, I believe that Seamus greatly enjoyed having a fresh young puppy to mold into his own. He was probably sharing his pearls of wisdom, such as shedding on black clothes is much more satisfying, and when in doubt, pee on ANYTHING.

Meet Rocky, a pleasant 10 week old Aussie.

Seamus was initially unsure of what to make of this squirmy bundle of fur.

Seamus became quite attached to him rather quickly.

It wasn’t long before a third dog was added to the mix.

Seamus soon realized that chubby dogs lack an athletic ability.

He met new friends.

He constantly annoyed a much larger dog.

But it wasn’t long until she snapped.

Seamus’ alarmed expression post-snap.

OH SHIT.

Rocky was next to learn not to vex Jessie.

TURBO DOG.

Seamus soon morphed into a mother hen.

What an endearing ball of fluff.

Because I was born in the nineties, I wasn’t really of age to enjoy any of the late 90s teen movies. I saw She’s All That once when I was seven and lacked the mental capacity to understand just what was going on. I can, however, vividly recall wishing to swap the tape for something less complex, namely Pocahontas or The Lion King.

I mean, I was still drawing with crayons when American Pie was released, and because of this, it wasn’t until last night that I saw it. This is not something that I am particularly proud of, but I assumed that if I had come this far without seeing it, I could probably go without it for the rest of my life.

As I was watching American Pie last night at a sleepover (none of my friends had seen it either, I blame our awkward year of birth) I was quick to realize that I AM ONE OF THOSE BAND GEEKS. It wasn’t until later in the movie that the infamous line surfaced.

Oh my God.

Because I started taking band when I was eleven, I used to discuss band and band camp quite frequently. Whenever I mentioned ‘band camp’ there was always somebody present to chime in ‘one time, at band camp…’
Right, I would think, what is wrong with this person?
Then when it became a routine occurrence I was all, what is wrong with all these people?
And then it was last night that I came to the stark realization that I had been living under a rock my entire life.

In chem class, as we learn about pressure and force.

Teacher- Tori, what is pressure? Can you tell us what it is?
Entire class turns at me and stares, awaiting my response.
Me- Umm… this?

I am convinced that Pepe is among the most vocal felines man has encountered thus far. His nightly ritual includes meowing noisily outside of our bedroom doors, with a blatant disregard for tranquillity and human lethargy. His irritating actions come without an ounce of remorse, as he almost seems to possess a sense of pride following his dirty deeds each night.

It is common for me to awaken not only to the perpetual meowing, but to the angry shrieks of my mother in response to the deafening noise that Pepe bestows upon us each and every night.

I frequently wake up to angry shrieks along the lines of ‘YOU ANNOYING LITTLE BASTARD! GO AWAY!’

I vividly recollect hoping that she wasn’t talking to Ben.

I have recently realized that I possess a hapless infatuation with the word sketchy. It frequents my vocabulary, emerging nearly every sentence to describe frivolous situations. There is just so much that I adore about the word; the fact that it rolls off of my tongue with immense ease, its ability to describe a wide array of occasions, and so forth. I could sit here all day rhyming off reasons why I hold the word sketchy in such high regard.

Yesterday I had a session with my math tutor in an attempt to prep for the test today (to little avail unfortunately). I was quite behind in her payments, so I promised to give her a cheque today totalling all the money that I owed her. She was visibly eager to obtain the money, so although she wouldn’t be there to receive the cheque, she instructed me to shove it into her locker. She showed little hesitation about this arrangement, perhaps fearing that if I didn’t relinquish the money now, I would vanish into the ether and vacation on her dime.

Preceding the first bell this morning, I went upstairs and attempted to shove the cheque into her locker. This proved an easier concept to grasp than to execute. The cheque became stuck, to which I stood on my tiptoes, peering into the small crack, and then struggled to push it through. My eyes were squinted as I scrutinized the locker, calculating ways to effectively force the cheque through. A girl whose locker was just next to my tutors stared blankly and dryly uttered ‘That’s soo sketchy.’

I froze for a second, in all my tiptoeing glory, looked up and shrieked ‘I know right!’

What a crazy mofo.

I think I forgot my cell phone in Greece.

I am still completely knackered from Greece; my average bedtime this week has been nine thirty.

I do not feel at all like going out this evening, but yet I am morally obligated to. How often does your best friend turn seventeen?

I still lack a gift and an outfit… and I have to be there in two hours.

Laundry has been left undone for yet another night. Why am I so lazy?

I am so beyond the point of aggravation.

I had band rehearsal this evening, despite the fact that we returned from Europe a whopping two days ago. Already feeling irritable, I was annoyed further when I realized that the saxophone music was not placed in the proper folder. The music remained in the folder that was taken to Greece, packed away amongst other luggage.

I politely asked my band teacher for music to one piece, a request that was met after much animosity. Feeling embarrassed to ask for a second piece, I suggested that a fellow sax player ask for it, as I had already asked for a piece. The player, his favourite and perhaps the best player in the band, was visibly apprehensive about asking for a piece. She suggested that we merely fake it and pretend like we had the piece.

This is potentially deadly. Either we escape unscathed or our carcases are used to line the floor.

You see, when you fake it you don’t really play, you pretend to. Your fingers move and at first glance you appear to be playing, but in reality you’re not. The peril associated with faking it is that the teacher sometimes takes notice and requests that you play at a particular point in the music. If you are requested to play at bar 73 but lack the sheet music, you have no idea what the fuck to play, thus looking like a complete fool. At this point in time you are forced to surrender and explain that you do not have the music. This enrages the teacher immensely, more so than if you had originally requested a new sheet of music. He starts to twitch, his eyes begin to bulge… Before you know it, you are at the receiving end of pure and utter ear piercing screaming.

I was understandably terrified, but The Other Sax Player was surprisingly nonchalant about the possibly of being discovered faking it. We played the piece and I had thought that we were in the clear.

Not so. He requested that all woodwinds (the saxophone being a woodwind) play at bar A.

I was aghast, I hadn’t the slightest clue what to play. Fear struck the faces of every sax player at that instance.

Except, of course, The Other Sax Player. She simply raised her hand and asked if she could be excused to get a drink. She was granted permission to do so and she was off on her merry way.

I wanted to get sheet music, she insisted that we fake it. Now at a time where we would potentially atone her decision, she cowered away. I was livid.

After we played at bar A, he then demanded that we play at bar C. Fortunately we managed to get away unscathed, but I was still incredibly annoyed with The Other Sax Player’s cowardice.

Who the fuck does that?