(no subject)
Dec. 4th, 2002 10:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cherryBecause Jen (and I am reminded once again that I know too many people named 'Jen') wanted to know about the long day...
Well, to start out with, it was a day of much food.
The engineering session was pretty neat. University is large and scary and ever so exciting. I think I could see myself doing this. We got to play with disposable plates and cups and send eggs hurtling down drop shoots. And they gave us all the pizza we could eat.
One of the sessions I attended was on engineering physics, which I would probably apply for if I'm still in Sask next year. I walked in, and across the board was scrawled 'Engineering Physics: More fun than Star Trek!'
It went down hill from there. But apparently, there's a small scale fusion reactor under the classrooms. Which didn't really add to the appeal. Plus, they kept running down 'normal' english, while using phrases like 'more gooder.'
::Insert amusing things between the end of the sessions and being picked up::
The three of us (plus a parental unit, otherwise occupied) went to the mall and hung out, ate donuts. The lady behind the counter insisted on giving me a certificate for a free dozen, because she overheard me say that the last time my mother bought from that stand, they had little filling.
We went and met up with the others. Which happened to be at a restaurant. Really nice pasta place, with the bread on the table, and the plates of oil and vinegar. We went looking for decorations, colours, table settings, all sorts of stuff. We got some really, really nice ideas, though we ended up changing our grad colours to match the streamers/linens we found (our grad is held in the curling rink, so we use plastic stretch table covers as streamers, up and down the length. Much nicer than it sounds.)
We're painting terracotta candle pots for the table settings, and we're thinking of doing collumns down the carpet. Behind us on the stage, instead of the flat black curtain we usually use, we're going to run pale purple gauze, with white Christmas lights behind it. We saw it in a bridal store, and it looks *awesome*. Picked up paper for the informal invitations.
After we were done, myself and two other girls headed to the mall, just for fun. When they closed and kicked us out, the one went home, the myself and the other (who was kind enough to be my ride to bingo) went to my gram's, to kill a few hours.
Had bingo. Midnight-four, which I actually prefer to a six-midnight. They're two hours shorter (A full program round), there tend to be fewer people and less smoke, and a lot of the time people are more mellow. It doesn't hurt that most of the time, I'm the most awake person there. I managed to snag payout (paying the winners), which is a pretty cushy job, compared to running (paper sales) or back (buying/selling/change).
And, yes, there are people playing bingo and four AM. There were sixty-some most of the night, right up until the last intermission.
It was my last bingo. For culture club, anyways. Working a bingo is... it's a surreal experience, really. You wouldn't expect it to be, but it is. It's one of those buildings with two stories' worth of height, and the smoke dances all the way up to the rafter and it ingrains itself into your hair and your clothes and your pores. There are people with knives, and hookers, and gangs of pregnant teenagers. There are people there to kill time, and there are people there who seem like they just don't have any other place to be. There are some people there who'd rob you blind, and there are others who tip you because you're a community group. It seems I've been 'adopted' by a couple of people, and I've had phone numbers show up on bills passed to me.
The hall is set up so that you'd never have to leave, if they didn't kick you out. There's a canteen that sells cigarettes, dabbers, and coffee. There's a trolley that comes around so you don't have to get up, and there's a cash machine in the corner. The food is actually really good. It's really, really good. They hose you on chips, but they make some of the absolute best poutine I've ever had. It's a huge, heaping portion, and any poutine ordered becomes group property.
...Got off onto a bit of a tangent there.
By the time paper was counted and we'd cleaned the hall, and I'd been dropped off and I'd driven back to my place, I'd been up for 26 hours. I was actually feeling pretty awake. Do you ever get to that place, where you're past tired and back to *thinking* that you're awake? I was all ready to tackle a day of school, but apparently something in my eyes (And the way I started laughing at... oh, I can't even remember it now, but I couldn't stop) caused me to be sent to bed, despite previous warnings that I'd be going to school bright and early.
So, I actually got four hours of sleep in my forty. Well, four and a half, actually, because I slept through my alarm, and raced into shop class late, with wild eyes, mismatched socks, and my hair flying everywhere.
The volleyball wind up was fun, but still kind of sad.
And then, once again, we ate pizza.
Well, to start out with, it was a day of much food.
The engineering session was pretty neat. University is large and scary and ever so exciting. I think I could see myself doing this. We got to play with disposable plates and cups and send eggs hurtling down drop shoots. And they gave us all the pizza we could eat.
One of the sessions I attended was on engineering physics, which I would probably apply for if I'm still in Sask next year. I walked in, and across the board was scrawled 'Engineering Physics: More fun than Star Trek!'
It went down hill from there. But apparently, there's a small scale fusion reactor under the classrooms. Which didn't really add to the appeal. Plus, they kept running down 'normal' english, while using phrases like 'more gooder.'
::Insert amusing things between the end of the sessions and being picked up::
The three of us (plus a parental unit, otherwise occupied) went to the mall and hung out, ate donuts. The lady behind the counter insisted on giving me a certificate for a free dozen, because she overheard me say that the last time my mother bought from that stand, they had little filling.
We went and met up with the others. Which happened to be at a restaurant. Really nice pasta place, with the bread on the table, and the plates of oil and vinegar. We went looking for decorations, colours, table settings, all sorts of stuff. We got some really, really nice ideas, though we ended up changing our grad colours to match the streamers/linens we found (our grad is held in the curling rink, so we use plastic stretch table covers as streamers, up and down the length. Much nicer than it sounds.)
We're painting terracotta candle pots for the table settings, and we're thinking of doing collumns down the carpet. Behind us on the stage, instead of the flat black curtain we usually use, we're going to run pale purple gauze, with white Christmas lights behind it. We saw it in a bridal store, and it looks *awesome*. Picked up paper for the informal invitations.
After we were done, myself and two other girls headed to the mall, just for fun. When they closed and kicked us out, the one went home, the myself and the other (who was kind enough to be my ride to bingo) went to my gram's, to kill a few hours.
Had bingo. Midnight-four, which I actually prefer to a six-midnight. They're two hours shorter (A full program round), there tend to be fewer people and less smoke, and a lot of the time people are more mellow. It doesn't hurt that most of the time, I'm the most awake person there. I managed to snag payout (paying the winners), which is a pretty cushy job, compared to running (paper sales) or back (buying/selling/change).
And, yes, there are people playing bingo and four AM. There were sixty-some most of the night, right up until the last intermission.
It was my last bingo. For culture club, anyways. Working a bingo is... it's a surreal experience, really. You wouldn't expect it to be, but it is. It's one of those buildings with two stories' worth of height, and the smoke dances all the way up to the rafter and it ingrains itself into your hair and your clothes and your pores. There are people with knives, and hookers, and gangs of pregnant teenagers. There are people there to kill time, and there are people there who seem like they just don't have any other place to be. There are some people there who'd rob you blind, and there are others who tip you because you're a community group. It seems I've been 'adopted' by a couple of people, and I've had phone numbers show up on bills passed to me.
The hall is set up so that you'd never have to leave, if they didn't kick you out. There's a canteen that sells cigarettes, dabbers, and coffee. There's a trolley that comes around so you don't have to get up, and there's a cash machine in the corner. The food is actually really good. It's really, really good. They hose you on chips, but they make some of the absolute best poutine I've ever had. It's a huge, heaping portion, and any poutine ordered becomes group property.
...Got off onto a bit of a tangent there.
By the time paper was counted and we'd cleaned the hall, and I'd been dropped off and I'd driven back to my place, I'd been up for 26 hours. I was actually feeling pretty awake. Do you ever get to that place, where you're past tired and back to *thinking* that you're awake? I was all ready to tackle a day of school, but apparently something in my eyes (And the way I started laughing at... oh, I can't even remember it now, but I couldn't stop) caused me to be sent to bed, despite previous warnings that I'd be going to school bright and early.
So, I actually got four hours of sleep in my forty. Well, four and a half, actually, because I slept through my alarm, and raced into shop class late, with wild eyes, mismatched socks, and my hair flying everywhere.
The volleyball wind up was fun, but still kind of sad.
And then, once again, we ate pizza.
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(no subject)
Date: 2002-12-05 11:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2002-12-05 11:38 pm (UTC)Yeah. Don't miss that. At all.
As for the being-so-tired-you're-awake, I have a vague recollection of lying on the floor of the Minneapolis airport singing The Little Mermaid at about 11:30 at night after our ten days in New York City (were we slept probably a grand total of 8 hours) in grade eleven. Good times.
Your open house at the uni sounds cool! Just let me know if you're coming to the UofA. *g*
~ Kat.