Collingwood 1.5

It's two in the fucking morning on December 28th. I'm typing this with the last dregs of battery power on my laptop, sitting on the couch. I'm glad the first post was a happy one, because this one sure ain't. Thank God for Chloe. "When it rains..." indeed.

Right, so. Status update: it's two in the morning of what is technically mom's birthday. None of us can sleep because of the club music blaring from Rusty's across the way (seriously, Taio Cruz, you're dynamite, I FUCKING GET IT ALREADY JFC STFU AAAHHHHHH). David is sick, Mom has just finished being violently ill in the bathroom... WHAT IS IT WITH MY FAMILY, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Especially Mom, like, holy shit. Cancer, then a broken wrist, then David's idiocy, now either food poisoning or the flu/some other intestinal malfunction... on her birthday, no less. GDI life, get it together already.

I asked, and there's nothing I can do right now (hence this post). Dad has apparently slept through all of this (like, the only one of us sleeping at all atm). I have decided I will cope with this situation by just not sleeping at all. Hell, I'm supposed to be getting up in five hours anyway. :/

(Also, I am absolutely no good with sick people. I really, really don't like them. Yes, this from the girl who thinks she may want to write the MCATS. But it's like... "ew, you're contagious, GO AWAY." MY OBSESSION WITH CLEANLINESS, LET ME SHOW YOU IT.) I wish there was internet here so I could post this and feel like someone's listening, but the closest Starbucks has been conscripted by IntraWest and therefore wants customers to pay $8.95 for internet, the bastards.

The one upshot to this post: the gym has a studio. It's fucking awesome, though I can't get the sound system to work. But. Studio. Yes.

...Oh, gotta go. That sounds like someone else having intimate relations with the toilet bowl. BRB.

K, back. Cursing the fact I have no anti-nausea meds with me. An ambulance just pulled up to cart someone away from Rusty's. MAYBE THEY WILL SHUT UP NOW. Oh, wait, that would be convenient. NEVER MIND.

I'm not getting up for four and a half more hours. Suspect this will end up being a really, really long post. #OH WELL. (Somewhere, at least half of this is David's fault. Call me judgmental, but it fucking is.) The club has decided to turn their music up. The couch is vibrating. If I ever become a homicidal psychopath, this night is why.

Hmm, I think we're on to dry heaves now. This is fun. NOT. Arrgh I hate a) the sound of people puking b) the fact that there are no 24-hr drug stores in the vicinity. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. A lack of stairs is not worth this.

Collingwood 1.65

It's three. Rusty's is quiet. Mom has stopped throwing up, thank God. Waking up in four hours. Brb, cutting bitches FOREVER.

Collingwood 02

A new day has come and with it, rumours of "the Norwalk virus did it!". Well, that's the hot theory right now as to why my mom, dad and brother all spent last night being ill and are still recovering today. It's mom's birthday today, by the way, how shitty is that?

But despite this, Dad, Grandpa and I still hit the slopes this morning. Skiing is always awesome, but perfection - whether weather-wise or in regards to conditions - is rare. But today - no words I have, no pictures, not even video could fully capture how amazing it is to ski under clear blue skies, with the sun gilding the bare trees in burnished copper and gold and the moon still hanging half full above the mountains. We were just in time to get some runs in when the corduroy was still fresh and ran like crushed velvet under our skis.

We went in early, and then Grandpa and I went on an epic quest for groceries/bras/internet/drugs/screwdrivers, all of which we were successful in finding. Did not go to the gym today (sadface, I miss the studio already), but hopefully tomorrow (Dad does not like me absconding with the car, and I do not like me parking by myself). Slash, I'm already all kinds of sore from yesterday, so silver linings, etc.

Right now, we're all gathered in Grandma and Grandpa's room watching - brace yourselves - the Weather Network. One more Collingwood tradition, my ridiculous craving for trashy tv, and Grandpa's near-addiction to the 7-day forecast. I should probably start working on my exchange application, but, aha, pull the other one, it's got bells on. I will probably just end up drinking more tea and reading one of Grandma's murder mystery novels.