I am slightly creepy

The information which I am about to impart upon you could possibly be (and perhaps has in the past been) in the "Guilty Pleasures" section, which I have to update. The problem is that today it almost bit me in the ass. My unfortunate guilty pleasure is looking up people I know on Google. Yeah, that's right. If you are my friend, then chances are I have been to all the sites which I think may be associated with you, or people who share your name. Because I am hugely narcissistic, I check my own name quite frequently. Today I was talking with one of my in-betweens – the people who dwell in that uncomfortable place between “friend” and “acquaintance” where you’re comfortable enough to say things that may not be wholly acceptable – when a piece of information I should not have known was divulged, except that I had done a little name search on Google. When I did the name search, I assumed that this was an alternate universe same namer, because the info was weird, yet it was the in-between. I could have been the uncomfortable one, as I almost said, “Oh, yeah, I know.” There was no way I could have known that. The only way I could have known that is if I was a creepy, creepy stalker, which isn’t the case. I don’t frequently check, just once to see if they, like me, have a blog or a webpage or well, really, anything, where I can say “Look what I found! Your website/blog/livejournal! Just don’t ask me how I found it!”. I suppose this is rather creepy, but I just get bored sometimes. (Is that how stalking starts? Gee, I hope not. I don’t want to be a stalker, although I do like creeping like a tiger. “Je suis un tigre francais!”)

And no, I didn't proof read this post because I'm supposed to be doing an essay. I'll edit it when I update the sidebar. Old friends with new blogs + new friends with old blogs = sidebar reno.

I know you guys have been staring at the same list forever, but I'm going to hit you with another little list.

When I leave this place, I'll miss...

... being serenaded by Enrique: the Italian version in the courtyard.
... Dave's goofy hat(s).
... seeing the same person four times a day and having it be a pleasant surprise everytime.
... knowing, by name, 50% of the people in my classes.
... interrupting everyone else's lives because my friends and I are obnoxiously loud and, well, we really don't care.
... visiting the women's centre and feeling like there will always be someone there who will make me feel passionate and reassure me that I am not dumb, the male institution is. (Yes! Blame it on the institution.)
... free dinners from the many groups I volunteer with.
... sitting with a good CD and a good book under the tree outside the Aird.
... being interrupted at least twice while I'm sitting with my good CD and good book under the tree outside the Aird.
... the daily thrill of knowing that every day I step on to campus I may meet someone new who makes me smile.
... all you frightening intellects with feirce grins and rapier wits. (Why don't I have a rapier? That's a very pirate thing to have. I must procure myself a rapier, post-haste.)
... my dates with the women I love, whether they be Valentine's day three course meals, dancing at Phil's or just a Spinster's Night Out (which will not end after graduation. Spinster's Forever!)

I'm sorry if you found that exceedingly sappy. If you did, eat shit. The acrid taste matches your bitter heart. The closer I get to the end, the more I realize that I am happy here. Yeah, I want to be done classes, but I built a life for myself that will be missed when I go, or you go, whoever goes first.

(By the way, if you are happy to see an update, thank Greg Smith and Regan. They hooked me up. If you are not happy to see an update, you may do as the "Well, that was sappy" shit eaters and munch the bum pancakes.)