Wednesday, July 27, 2005

fuck that noise indeed...

Let me just vent for a second, okay. What the fuck?! Who do these big shot coffee shop conglomerates think their are?! Like their on like their fuckin' high ponies all fuckin' like "Yes yes Thomas, of course we won't hire you...so fuck off." I'm a perfectly fucking hireable human being for christs fucking sake; and yet here I have some bitch pick her teeth at me and be all like "Yeah, the managers will give you a call...if they want to." Whoa, shitfaced! How the fuck did that slut of a blond cum mop acquire a job while I can't even get an ass glance backwards. Fuck that noise; fuck that noise indeed...

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Yeah, ethnic cleansing; it's so glamorous...

My ass fucking hurts. I've finally gotten myself back into the transprotation mode after about a two week hiatus during which I was forced to, get this, walk everywhere I wanted to go. There is nothing pleasant about walking through a town permanently "underconstruction". Sure, in nature where everything is pretty and bears eat honeycombs a walk is an event to pencil in...but there are no delieghtful sparrows eating berries in this town. All the berries are covered in construction dust and the sparrows are chain smokers. It's a filthy habit you know.

So Daidai fucked up my car. Let me explain Daidai, if a may, for just a bit here. I met Daidai through my other Japanese friend most commonly referred to as "The Look". The Look and Daidai are connected by a thin strand that is their Japanese ethinicity...and now me. Other then that nothing is in common. Daidai was drawn in under the pretense that he would be helping out Daisy and myself with our television show; a find for us because it turns out Daidai, in fact, has no inhabitions whatsoever. It took slim to no convincing to get him naked in that elavator and a tiny incident with a bottle of ketchup to ease him into the idea of doing a make-out music video with me. Daidai is easy like Tuesday's with Morrey. Fuck, I hadn't even known him for five days and he already found his way into my bedroom naked with a toaster propped on his crotch and being videotapped by my bisexual friend. A-h, we call it the house of sin...

So he's about as loose in the brain as he is in the belt. Not to be mistooken here is the fact that I love Daidai; he's a great guy and a total hoot to hangout with...and he's a schmuck. But we all are so there's no shame. So anyway me and Daidai had the worst camping trip ever. Get this kids, we drive (on a whim mind you) eleven miles up a dirt road up to Blue Mountain to frolic in the people-free bear-cub-eatin'-honeycombs backcountry; where we planned to set up camp and drink heavily. It was to be one of those "best camping trip ever"s; you know, the kind you don't remember. OH but I do remember, with a bitter vengence.

About ten minutes into the trip; after unloading most-if-not-all the supplies Daidai snaps my car key in the car door trying to unluck, mind you, an already unlocked door. There is no spare, I don't keep spares, I'm a dangerous fucking man. So I call up the Pa for a return ride (add curse words to taste) and we repack the car; down the trecherous side hill over the forest and through the woods; we repack the car. The Pa shows up...at about ten thirty as we've already goten quite on in the trip and it is aboot a fourty minute drive up the dirt road thank you very much...to inform us that is is too late (he thinks) for a tow truck. I, being a lover of sparrows eating berries, volunteered the idea that we just stay the night as we were already set up for camping. The Pa leaves and we are officially stranded. Yet again we unpack the car.

From then on we rapidly spun downhill in a vast arsenal of humilities; in the darkness we couldn't properly set up our tent so ended up slumbering on tortoise-esque rocks in a collapsing tent which, thanks to a smashing packing job by my dearest brother, didn't seem to come with any stakes to hold it down. In the end I managed to fish an old knife block out of the abyss of my vehicle and used the knives in it's cockles to hold down the flapping nylon flesh that did cover us from the mosquitos. We forgot matches. Our meat was melting fast as it was eleven thirty by now, and in some sad act of desperation be began banging rocks over the propane stove. Doesn't work.

Finally our better human instincts kicked in and we gave up; oppting to waste the night away drinking cheap beer and eating our breakfast pop-tarts while discussing crazy women and their craziness. Later on we tended to roll up in sleeping bags and mimic the act of sleep but thanks to mother nature's cold exterior and our dilapidated tent slapping back and forth in the summer's cool breeze, all we could really do is kick and mutter a few benign swear words. Nothing about it was a bonding experience.

And is the car but fixed yet? Nay good servant; it still lay torpid at my parents house, it's bowels bloated with unfinished cans of beer...or those finished but yet recycled. After returning home both my bicycles promptly got flat tires temporarily stranding my in my slightly out of the way crack house for the past week and a half. And but recently have I gathered the strength to tackle the travail down to the bike shop for a new tube. Oh why must life be so cruel to me. Why couldn't g_d have treated me with a better life...like being born in Rwanda. Yeah, ethnic cleansing; it's so glamorous...

Friday, July 01, 2005

gliding across couches and throwing tofu in heaven...

I took a hike up blue mountain today during the oh so fun tick season. Nothing compliments a brisk hike like standing naked in your room patheitcally angleling a large catalogue of mirrors to firmly establish whether or not those little flax-flat sons of fun-fun have infultrated your swimsuit area. What was I doing rampaging around the beautiful mountain-tops waving a steak in the face of lime desease? I killed my sugarglider. Yes kids not even a week and that furry skinflap of cutness is stiff and buried on the needled peeks of the local frisbee-golf course. This confirms my previous suspicions that I am, in fact, a horrible person.

For those of you whom aren't in the "let's do something retarded" know; sugargliders are this little bitch of a rodent from Australia with parachute-esque skin stretching from the tips of their front paws to their hind legs. When frightened or after spotting tin-foil; they fall from high places and use their malformation to safely glide them to the ground. Gods way of helping out the freaks...they can fly. When looked at late at night, and while a little drunk, you can see Lucifer himself reflected in their pupilless eyes.

So I got them, for free, with intentions heavily peppered with the phrase "dark minions"; but the whole thing went down hill and now one is dead. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why he died except for maybe he fell from the top of the cage and gave himself some serious gravity damage. But shouldn't they glide in that sort of a situation?

Well I woke up this morning to the dead stiff mammal in its cage, sporting no blood or cause of death anywhere. Secrectly I have a theory that the other sugar glider did it...but it might be just because I hate her filthy soul-stealing guts.

So here's to you Chichikichii, may you be gliding across couches and throwing tofu in heaven...