I'm puzzled by a generation that has no problem viewing each other as strictly sex objects and believes that sexing everything that moves is fine and yet seems to be terrified when people pursue their sexuality in ways other than those presented on television and in music videos. I mean sometimes it isn't about the fucking...and that is fun too.

Please explain.

Once upon a time we used to go to a bar called The Lizard Lounge in Toronto. Fetish night was the best time to go there because the bar would be full of people you could exploit. Don't get me wrong, these people wanted to be exploited, were there to be exploited. And maybe I have a streak of cruelty in me, because exploiting people can be fun. I feel justified, because I exploit myself with the same sort of vigor. They had the best fashion shows and there was always a seedy feeling of expectation.

I had an ashtray boy. I should say WE had an ashtray boy because I believe in sharing. This is a very useful accessory to have when out for a night of drinking, dancing and partial nudity. I guess this profession is now obsolete though, given the smoking laws we now have in this province.

I gave pretty much all my fetish gear to a second hand store. I hope someone put it to good use.

Do you ever talk to yourself? Tell yourself secrets that nobody else knows? I do, and sometimes, I even listen to myself too.

Today I'd like to send a giant SHUTUP to Bono, who once again has his pompous lips flapping about what other people need to do in this world, or to be more specific, in this case, Canadians.

I have no patience for Rock stars as ambassadors of this, that and the other thing.

People like to watch other people fall apart, you know this is true from Oprah to Dr. Phil (come on, he's not really helping anybody as much as he is making bored housewives feel better than the sorry examples he presents) it's proven out every day.

I suppose it's a bit romantic in a novelistic way, falling apart, being the kind of person who is so consumed by the world that it eventually rips them to shreds. I think the critics are mostly just upset that they can't feel with that kind of passion, although that kind of passion can be scary and better watched at a distance by most really.

I know, you're probably thinking passion? What the fuck, most of those people do absolutely nothing but whine and complain and drink and fret and implode, but it has to come from somewhere and just because drinking is relaxing to you, do you really think it is for everyone?

You might think I'm talking about myself here, but I'm not, it could be anyone, it could be you, but even if I were, I wouldn't tell you because that would be just one more thing to use against me. People love love LOVE to use stuff against other people, makes them feel so warm and fizzy fuzz inside you know, not that I would care because really at the end of the day it's like you are all make believe and maybe so am I. I'll let you make your suppositions on your own time, your own dime, whatever or however you want to put it, and you can't say that I had anything to do with it because my words come with one big disclaimer that basically says "you don't know", but you know THAT because I just told you.

So you get to sit and watch me critique the world like I know shit about anything, but best of all is when the critique comes back at me... funny since I'm just a two-dimensional photograph in your world.

Holy crapduck, I fucking hate Musicals.

pathetic is keeping your beer out on your balcony because it stays nice and cold and then realizing that condensation has frozen the balcony door shut, preventing you from grabbing one of said cold beers. Then you actually drink the one solitary indoor beer, with ice. Loser.

WOOOOOO! WOOOOO! WOOOOO! THUNK

O.K. so it's Thursday. What exactly is irritating me today? Let me think...
I know. I've noticed a few blogs where every single picture of the person looks something like this:



Look how much I love you, so willing to look like a total twat to illustrate a point. Now you people who think this makes you look vibrant and peppy and exciting and fun, it doesn't. You look daft. This look screams "I'm the one who NEVER FUCKING SHUTS UP EVER. EVER. Oh yes I mean EVER. I was about to type "You know who you are" but actually, they don't. The self-appointed life of the party never quite gets how annoying they are to everyone else. In case you're thinking something rotten about me right now, oh I know how annoying I am. But it's totally not in the same way and YOU KNOW IT.



That was tiring.

steaming heaps 'o turdish delight

My boobs hurt so much today that I can hardly stand to be awake. I've felt angry a lot lately. I was going to try to find interesting pictures to download but other than the rollerskating kids everything is porn no matter what you type in and that is quite frankly very ZZZZZZZ like get over it already wankjobs. See I can't even type here without being angry, everybody bugs me with all the stupid things they say and do. I bet there is 4, maybe 5 people tops who don't bug me right now. I bet out of those 4, maybe 5 people I only know 2 of them. If you are trying to figure out if you are one of them, you're too sensitive.



Don't you love reading comments on blogs that are all kiss ass and "wow I so understand where you are coming from and I love you and everything you say and hang in there and blah blah blah". I mean positive is good but there is a fine line, actually no it's not a fine line it's a pretty fucking obvious line between self-respect and vomitorium. I don't usually get those which is good, but when I read those comments on other blogs I cringe because obviously these people are the same people in high school who would literally eat shit to hang out with the popular crowd and who would have thought they would still be cramming those steamy heaping loads down their throats however many years later?

I'm a dweller. It's a really shitty thing about me, I don't forget things. I wouldn't make a good christian in that respect with the forgive and forget nonsense, or maybe I would because I don't believe they do that for one second. I will seriously start thinking about something that has nothing to do with anything anymore and get myself all pissed off. Whatever blah blah blah....

If I had anything to say I would say it but clearly I do not which is incredibly pathetic because I am not of an age where I should have nothing going on, the fact I just wrote "I am not of an age" means someone should hit me now for sounding like such a pompous dillhole.



P.S. I have some poetry being published in Poetry Canada which would be cool if poetry weren't for goth girls and femme boys and people with too many cats and folks who throw wine tasting parties and pretend to understand way more than they actually do. If I sound ungrateful, I'm not, so don't even.

P.P.S. if this font is all weird don't blame me. Blogger does whatever it wants. If not, then nevermind.

P.P.P.S. It's a phone.

yeah so tell me how you do a roller skating movie with so little real rollerskating happening, I mean not very impressive, but I guess this is what happens when you cast mini rap stars. You'd think when someone was doing a supposedly awesome and great roller routine, you'd at least show their feet and I don't think this is asking too much but no, they'd focus in on their faces and their stupid arm movements, so really, if you are in the mood for a roller skating movie, Roll, Bounce is just going to disappoint you. Maybe I can find a copy of Roller Boogie somewhere.

The french onion soup on the other hand, was truly stellar.

Saying "I have a short attention span" is a polite way of avoiding telling someone you don't want to hear them yap yap yapping anymore.


I can't take credit for these photos, because they come off this site where this person randomly downloads people's pics from Kazaa etc. I don't remember the site they come from, but I am going to do that too because I am nosy and people are retarded.


Remember how I said I was in the mood for a roller skating movie? I'm going to watch Roll, Bounce tonight because it's a roller skating movie that will probably be crap but I like crap movies that don't make you think even more than I like good movies that you think about for a lifetime. I will eat French Onion soup while watching and maybe drink some red wine (that I will also add to the soup). Best night ever in store. I wish I could invite you, but I don't like to share my food.

Here is my first Kazaa discovery. Sassy.

I'm in the mood for a roller skating movie.

I'm not feeling the blog these days.

So last night we went out. I realized once again that the problem with going out is that I spend all my money. We did write a song though...



Flashlight Flipper Babies

Flashlight flipper baby crawling down the hall
hasn't any legs at all (2x)

popping thalidomide
day and night
birthed a flipper baby
with a flashlight

flashlight flipper babies
sitting in the sun
flapping their flippers
scaring everyone

Flashlight flipper baby crawling down the hall
hasn't any legs at all (2x)

manufactured bird flu
flipper baby, boo hoo
mommy doesn't love you
flipper babies in the zoo

flashlight flipper baby
maybe not so ordinary
here they come
better run

Flashlight flipper baby crawling down the hall
hasn't any legs at all (2x)

I just walked home with this big gayass umbrella that looked liked it had been stomped on. We have probably 4 umbrellas but ALL our umbrellas look like that for some unknown reason. Today that is the biggest thing I have to complain about but the day is still young so even though I should be glad that that is my biggest problem, it still annoys me.

The other thing annoying me is that I still haven't gotten my last cheque from the barn. Typical, and completely what I expected, thanks for reaffirming my decision to quit.

Later, we will argue about furniture arranging. My life is so exciting, I don't know how you can read this and not kill yourself out of jealousy.

the place is almost done so I will probably have the time and energy to blog again. Let's hope I have something to say.