This is NOT how you make jelly shots

Saturday was just not a day for working, as much as I may have wanted (which I didn't) procrastination was the way forward. Nicole and I even joined forces which resulted in the idea of making jelly shots. Sadly I did end up calling them jell-o shots after a while. Darn Americanisms. Anyway, we rounded up the troops (i.e. myself, Hannah and Nicole) and set off for Carrefour de l'Estre. Essential for the SAQ where we picked out a nice bottle of vodka. We also ambled into the shopping centre where I kindly bought a plate and some forks, meaning that my sister, who shall arrive sometime today, can actually eat like a civilised person and not off the table or with her fingers. What a good sister I am.
So yes, upon our return we raided Victoria's room for the jelly and to tell her she would be joining us that evening. I've never made jelly before. There might be special techniques one can use but ours were pretty concentrated at the bottom. By this I mean, they were chewy, which in my mind should never be a quality imputed to jelly. The evening panned out with us consuming said vodka jelly shots and a few games. Hannah, the least likely to do so, was the first to head to bed, but did stay long enough to witness Nicole's very first shot. I think we are very slowly getting her used to alcohol. It was a most enjoyable evening, which as is becoming more and more regular, ended with my good self scribbling on doors. My favourite has to be demi-habillé's door. Following a previous discussion with Victoria about what meat actually was, I wrote le premier choix pour cannibalisme and muscle-icious. He is quite muscly you see. His reaction when he returned was pure hilarity. If anybody asks, it wasn't me. I seem to have convinced him otherwise for the time being, however, I did want to share this piece of comic genius.
My days since have been shared between attempting to study and ringing up countless banks. Oh and there was cake on Monday for Tara's birthday.
Making my day yesterday were 2 skype calls, allowing long over due catch-ups. I love that Charlotte's life sounds like it came out of a trashy film/novel, not that I mean her life is trashy but I can just imagine the opening sentence or monologue, epilogue? Oh film vocab is beyond me, it remains a mystery to me how I got a 2:1 in German film last year, because I had no idea what I was talking about. Enough of this tangent, aside from reiterating my excitement about Katie's arrival and/or complaining about a grammar class that I ought to go to but downright wish didn't exist, I have no news. My life definitely wouldn't make a good trashy novel at the moment!