Due on Monday: A Chemistry lab report (4 pages typed, plus a whole bunch of tables, graphs and calculations) and a 4-5 page paper for Writing class. Due on Tuesday: A Biology lab report (ended up a tad short of 10 pages typed). I love it when that happens.

As stressed out as I can get when I've got oodles of work to do, it's a good feeling to finally have it all done. When you've been telling yourself for the past week that you have to do this, this and this every night, it's nice to finish an assignment and immediately think, "OK, so what do I have to do next?... Oh, that's right. Nothing." Then again, that feeling of relief might also stem from the fact that it's 2 in the morning and I can finally go to sleep... crap, did I say that out loud?

During my absense from updating the site, I went home for the weekend and attended Six Flags Employee Orientation. For the third straight summer I'll be returning there to work, except now that I'm 18 tears old they can work me more than 8 hours a dayif they need to. Hurray. My hard work, however, is being recognized: I've been promoted to a Training Lead. Basically, the Games department was so impressed at my uncanny ability to spew bullshit over a microphone in order to get people to come play Whac-A-Mole ("It's the most exciting game on the midway!") that they've decided to let me teach all the new employees how to do it. I'll be telling them how to run the games and do all the stuff they have to do, and check up on them from time to time and give them advice on how to do their job better, from the sounds of it.

So, if you visit Six Flags New England this summer and walk through the center area of the park, and you hear people on microphones saying all sorts of wonderful things to try and get you to play their games... it'll be because of me. Now that's spooky.

I'm not particularly fond of my Spanish classes here at BU. After taking 6 years of French in high school and still not being all that good at it, trying to learn a third language has proven to be quite an experience for me. I have to admit, though, it's kind of funny when I try to think out a sentence in Spanish and half of it comes out in French.

By far, my least favorite part of the class has to be the in-class compositions. Two or three days beforehand, we're given a sheet with two possible topicsfor the composition, so we can go over any necessary vocabulary and grammar. Then, one day in class, we're asked to write a couple of paragraphs on one of the topics without any outside help - no books, no dictionaries, no notes, just everything off the tops of our heads. I felt I was fortunate to get B+'s on both of my compositions in first semester Spanish.

Today's Spanish class involved writing another one of these lovely things. While preparing for this one, I suddenly got an idea: Why not just write the entire thing here in my dorm room, memorize it, and re-write it in class? I'm pretty good at memorizing things; when I'm in plays I'm always one of the first to have all my lines memorized, and by the time the show's over I've memorized most of the other character's lines as well. With this in mind, I decided to give my idea a try.

It worked a little too well, I think. I was finished just 15 minutes into the hour-long class, and that includes proofreading and trying to think of other things I could add. Even the professor gave me a weird look when I walked up to turn it in. It was quite funny, I thought.

Not as funny as this. though: last night, while talking to a friend, Aaron (my loud, obnoxious roommate, for those who don't know) said that when he finishes CGS, he wants to transfer into SMG. Fortunately, he was so busy being loud and obnoxious that he didn't notice my struggled efforts to not laugh.

Being the wonderfully nice person that he is, Jon was kind enough to chime in with his thoughts on my Canadian skiing trip shortly before I left.

"I'll tell you what I think. High temperature in Montreal on Valentine's Day? SEVEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO. Have fun!"
Okay, so it was a tad chilly up there. But, other than the cold and the fact that most of their stores are closed on Sundays, I still don't have any major gripes with the Canadian people. I'm sure Jon has his reasons for despising them the way he does, but they're okay in my book. Wish I could say the same about the BU Ski Club, which organized the trip... but that's not the point.

At about 3:15 on Friday afternoon, our buses departed from the GSU en route to Quebec City. The bus ride was rather uneventful, other than the fact that the array of movies shown (Mickey Blue Eyes, Dumb & Dumber, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and one other one that I can't remember) did a fine job of preventing me from getting any studying done. The crossing of the US/Canada border was celebrated by the passing around of copious amounts of booze by my busmates. I, being the way I am, respectfully chose to not take part in such revelry... okay, so I had one can of Icehouse, but that was it. By the time we reached Quebec City at around 12:30, the combination of drunkenness and tiredness had reduced many of my busmates to babbling idiots, whose constant spewing of such nonsense as "Houses are just popping up out of nowhere" and "Oh, I thought those were pictures of snow I was seeing outside" made me want to punch something... or somebody. Fortunately, I was able to restrain myself.

When we finally arrived at our hotel, room keys were passed out. I assumed I'd be rooming with three other guys, thinking that the school would frown upon co-ed rooms due to the possibility of... well, you know... especially given how much alcohol would be consumed on a trip like this, where everybody could actually drink legally. I was called up to the front of the bus along with a girl, and we were notified our other two roommates were on the other bus. Alright, I thought. This is a tad strange. Maybe it'll be two guys and two girls in each room. That would kind of make sense. Then I took the envelope with our room keys in it, and noticed my name alongside the names of three girls.

They didn't appear to be the smartest girls at BU, but they were all nice nonetheless, and didn't appear troubled in the least by the fact that they were sharing a room with a guy. Of course, they closed themselves in the bathroom whenever they showered or got changed, but other than that nobody complained about anything. Now, someday, when my kids ask me when I first slept with a girl... I'm not going to have a very interesting story to tell. Oh well.

Despite the fact that it was roughly 1:30 by the time we were settled into our rooms, not to mention the fact that most of them were already drunk, many students felt the need to go out and explore Quebec City's pubs and clubs. Me and the girls, on the other hand, stayed in and went to sleep.

The next morning, we boarded our buses and set out for Mont-Sainte-Anne, arriving shortly before 10 in the morning. It's a nice mountain, with about 60 trails spanning the entire spectrum of difficulty levels. For reasons I still don't entirely understand, there were two Saint Bernards named Maggie and Gertrude stationed at the top of the mountain for people to cuddle, take pictures of, etc. They must have known what a sucker I am for animals. While these and many other good things made the day an overall success, there was one negative factor: the weather. Despite the fact that I managed to cover every inch of my flesh with some sort of protective fabric, the routine for the day went something like this: Go up mountain, ski down mountain, go up mountain, ski down mountain, go into lodge to warm up and let the ice thaw off of my face mask, etc., etc. This continued until about 3:00, when we all boarded the buses once more and headed back to the city. After some time in the hotel, people went out to bars for evening, and I decided to join them for once. And a good time was had by all. Yay.

The next morning, we were supposed to leave the hotel at about 9:30 to go skiing again. However, the numbing cold outside kept the buses from starting. When we were told at 10:00 that it would be at least another hour before the buses showed up, I thought it might be more worthwhile to go explore the city instead. So I did. Quebec City is a deeply historical place, with lots of nifty little landmarks to visit. There's all sorts of stuff you can see and do... especially during Winter Carnival.

Ah yes, Winter Carnival... Canadian for Mardi Gras, essentially. While there's no beads and flocks of college students flashing each other (at least that I saw), there's still plenty of singing and dancing and hijinks and merriment going on. And it's all led by "le Bonhomme du Carnaval," a fat snowman in a Santa hat wearing a rainbow-colored scarf around his stomach. I watched a parade Saturday night, and the only thing funnier than the giant dancing animals that seemed to adorn each float was watching all the Canadians dancing around in the streets, singing and yelling all sorts of strange things. It was crazy.

I also took a ferryboat across the St. Lawrence River and explored the town of Levís. Given the fact that it was Sunday and pretty much everything was closed, there wasn't a lot to see there. However, given the fact that it has a statue of Guillaume Couture, the first member of my family to come to America, I felt it was my civic duty to at least go take a look around.

We were originally going to go tubing that night, but the people in charge decided it was too cold to do that. So, what did everybody do instead? Go out and get drunk, of course! I opted to stay in the hotel, watching The Simpsons and Spongebob Squarepants on French and catching up on some of my studying.

We left the hotel at about 11:00 Monday morning and headed back home. Other than stopping at the duty-free shop at the border (I found candy bars on sale for $1.79 Canadian... which was exactly the amount I had left. Yeehaw!) and passing through customs, nothing noteworthy happened until we hit Massachusetts and saw that it was snowing. Oh boy, was it snowing. A couple of phone calls later, it was discovered that BU had already cancelled classes for Tuesday, much to the enjoyment of everybody on the bus. People immediately began discussing their plans for that night and the next day. They could go sledding on that big hill out towards BC... or maybe they could have a party tonight and get drunk!

All in all, it was a fun trip, although I don't think I'll be joining the Ski Club on any more Canadian vacations. I don't fit into the club that well, since I can't bring myself to get drunk for four nights in a row. Several students admitted that it wasn't as much a skiing trip as it was a "drinking and hangover recovery on the monutain" trip. They have weekend trips up to Vermont every once in a while, which I might take part in, however. There wouldn't be quite as much drinking, given the fact that they'd still be in the US... I hope.

Well, I made it back alive. And given what the weather's like right now, that's actually saying something.

BU's already cancelled classes for tomorrow due to the snowstorm, so I'll wait until tomorrow to write a recap of my crazy Canadian adventure. I'd do it right now, but lugging two shoulder bags, a backpack, and skis from the GSU to West Campus in a blizzard has a way of tiring one out. Now, please allow me to collapse.

There's been a pair of skis sitting under my bed for the past week. Aaron, my roommate, as well as a couple of his friends who have visited the room, have noticed them and talked about them for brief periods, so they certainly knew that they were there. So naturally, when Aaron comes back to the room this evening after class and sees me stuffing my weekend bag full of clothes, the first thing he thinks to ask is:

"Oh, are you going snowboarding this weekend?"

Every time I try to convince myself he's not a moron, he goes and proves it to me again.

Tomorrow afternoon, I shall join the BU Ski Club in a weekend expedition to Quebec City to ski Mont Sainte Anne, which appears to be a pretty nice place. My dad's jealous, given that I'll be wandering around the lands where our brave Couture forefathers first set foot upon American soil. My mother worries for my safety, warning me that the underground shopping mall/convention center/thing connected to our hotel might get pumped full of nerve gas by terrorists. My brother... well, given his views of Canada, I'd rather not know what he thinks.

I'm certainly looking forward to it, considering how little skiing I've gotten to do in the past few years. In addition, the 8-hour bus rides to and from Quebec will give me an opportunity to catch up on my studying... I hope.

"Drinking on bus: As per the Sno-Search policy, we cannot advocate it. However, as long as people are in control, and pick up after themselves, it shouldn't be an issue. And remember 21+ in the US ;)"
So sayeth a "last minute info" letter from the ski club officers. I don't know about you, but there's no other place I'd rather spend my Valentine's Day than on a bus full of drunken college kids. Yay!

You know you're in for a fun day at work when you get home from your morning shift at 11:10, sit down to read your e-mail, and see "Hey Matt, I can't come into work today. Can you go in at 11 and cover for me?" At least Joe gave me a few "special assignments" today... like going upstairs to get him a cup of coffee. He's a great person to work for, really.

Anybody critiquing Boston University Hockey's performances against Boston College this year would certainly have a lot to talk about. They could mock us for getting swept in our regular season series with BC, and talk about how we played in any of those three games. Or they might choose to discuss our performance in last night's Beanpot final. How we spent so much time on the defensive, or how we only had 4 shots in the entire third period, or how Baldwin (BC's mascot) beat Rhett at beer pong during the first intermission, or a number of other things.

If faced with such an argument, however, there's no need for a BU fan to panic. All they have to do is utter a simple three-word phrase. A wonderful little phrase it is, which will likely silence anybody who speaks ill of Terrier Nation.

"Where's your Beanpot?"

I saw it with my own two eyes, but I still can't fathom how we beat BC 3-2 last night. In what seems to be routine for them, BU had many careless penalties, and often had lots of trouble getting the puck out of the zone. All I can say is that Sean Fields is my hero. He had some tremendous saves in both games, and is certainly deserving of the MVP trophy.

While I may not have been on television or on the Jumbotron screen like some other people, the Beanpot experience was everything I could have hoped for and more. We chanted all sorts of wonderful things at the BC crowd, as well as at the pack of Northeastern fans who heckled us whenever we got penalized. Rhett walked up and down the aisle between BU's two main fan sections several times, flailing his arms around and hugging everybody in sight - myself included. Even riding the T back to campus after the game was fun, as we joined a pack of face-painted freshmen in heckling an old BC couple and cheering when the driver announced, "This is a Boston University train." Good times, indeed.

Since I haven't updated in a week, I should probably talk about non-Beanpot related matters for at least a little bit. With three exams last week, I didn't have much time to talk, and most of the time I did have was spent playing a new computer game which has proven to be quite addicting. My hard work is paying off, however; I got a 68 on my first Chemistry exam (class average was a 58) and an "A/A-" on my first Writing assignment. Both of those grades are higher than anything I got in either of those classes last semester, which is encouraging. Now, if only I can kep it up for the whole semester, I'll be all set.

Today's update comes to you live from 44 Cummington Street, Room B-15. (The Copy/Mail Room, for those unfamiliar with addresses) Because I can.

I'm sure most of you reading this need no introduction to the Beanpot. The annual tournament between BC, BU, Harvard and Northeastern draws the attention of not only the city of Boston, but much of the rest of the country as well. Other than Travis Roy's graduation, it's the only time I've seen BU hockey talked about on ESPN. It's more than just another hockey tournament... despite what any polls on USCHO.com would have you believe.

The excitement peaks at the campuses of each of the four schools, as the student bodies try to cheer their team to victory. Students go to class decked out in hockey jerseys and other paraphinalia. Games are projected on giant 20 foot screens for all those who weren't able to get tickets. Even BU's School of Management, known for the hefty workload its studnets must endure, did not schedule any tests or projects for Monday so that all its students could go to the game and cheer on the Icedogs.

Unfortunately, the College of Arts and Sciences decided not to do anything similar.

A 5:30 Chemistry exam effectively destroyed any hopes I had of attending last night's 5:00 BU-Harvard game. By the time I finished the exam, ate dinner, and got back to my dorm to drop off my books, it was almost 7. I decided to take a trip to the mall in Cambridge, and as the T train I was riding passed the FleetCenter, Harvard's pep band and several fans from both sides were getting on the westbound train. It was somewhere around there that I stopped thinking that selling my ticket for $30 was a mistake.

Being the eternal pessimist that I am, I thought that Harvard might take advantage of the good season they're having and shock everybody by beating us. I guess I forgot that this is the Beanpot, and BU doesn't screw around. It sounds a little closer than I would have liked, but a win is a win, and BU's in the finals once more. Now, next Monday night, they have a chance to avenge their three previous losses to BC this season. And you'd better believe that I'll be there.