Hmmmmm... Friends must all be busy salivating over sushi they'll be having later today. Too busy to blog. Thinking about salmon. Mmmmmm, salmon. Stupid practically salmon-free Korea... and bad sushi too.

Happy birthday to Michelle Mccann. Today she turns 25 years old. She's one of my friends that has actually accomplished some pretty impressive things so far in her life. The least of which was deciding that I was not evil incarnate. I still laugh every time I think about the conversations that must have gone on when I was declared enemy number 1 by Ms. Mccann. An honours undergrad, a soon to be approved MA, a President of the GSA, an organizer of judicial conferences, a former Tory sellout (former because you don't get to keep the full on sellout title when you boldly criticize the provincial budget your boss just announced on the radio, and well, with the position change it isn't as much of a sellout job). But wouldn't you like to know why she hated me so?

And so the story goes: I finally gave into my brother's pressure to run for a position with the Students' Union at U of C. Ok, well, the academic commission race hadn't filled up after the deadline, which gave us procrastinators and undecideds a bit of a second chance, but who's really counting? Had myself and 4 others not decided to turn in our forms that day, Nic Porco, Michelle's Chosen One, would have been acclaimed to the esteemed office of Academic Commissioner. Grand plans were crimped, however, when it became evident that there would in fact be an election - one for which our grand strategist was not quite yet prepared (as she was working long hours at a *reputable* publication in order to buy large quantities of milk and support the U of C Ancillary Services slush fund through monthly payments of $650). It is rumored that after my posters went up around campus Michelle received a somewhat panicked phone call from one Mr. Porco regarding the readiness of his own campaign... I can only imagine what they looked like. Neither Michelle nor Nic, nor any others involved will show me a copy.

Because there were 4 spots up for grabs in the election things were never really harrowing. Everyone knew that I wouldn't be taking Nic's spot, there were many others open. And yet, there was this underlying aggressiveness in every word that was said, in every look that was by Ms. Mccann that alerted me to my status as a threat to her grand plan for Nic's greatness. I, therefore, signed up for every committee that Nic did, not allowing her a moment's respite until well into the fall when I made it clear that 'twas not the VPA's office that I was after. Even then there was that one panicked lunch, oh you two know the one I'm talking about...

So here's to you Michelle, on this grand day in your life I ask only that you look back and remember the good times together. All of those pitchers at Max's, plotting and scheming, among other things. And then there was the Den, but it was never the same. The patio in varsity, bottles of wine, cats, cars on the lawn, and gazebos. The ya-yas. Making Andrea cry. Not that I had anything to do with that, I just like to think about it occasionally, and it doesn't make me a bad person. Yamato. Doors falling off vans in parking lots. Crows in campsites. And the tears, the circuit, and the fights.

There's just one more memory to call up, my darling. Remember always, no, don't ever let it slip your mind, that you had me wrong at first. One of only 2, I believe. Trust those instincts for the next 25 years, but never let them keep you from seeing your friends.