egads!
now i must stop this.. this... constant missing of the busses.
off i go.

So, I know it has been awhile. Thought I would poke my business back into the very spicy world of my blog. Reassure the general public that no,. I haven't disappeared. Nor have I let my silly addictions, such as my obsessive love for bull fighting., take over my life. I know in the past, this crazyness I feel about bull fighting has ruled my life - I'd spend all my time and money on it. I'd spend three or four days straight, training to be a bullfighter. And it was lame and not cool of me, and I totally understand your uneasyness regarding the topic at hand.

I've been spending more and more time at the homeland... the actual one that I am paying the rent towards...
Anyways, I actually really like it there. I've lived with my sister before and I remember very clearly that I enjoyed living with her. I can't remember any of the bad aspects of that living situation, so thats wicked and means a clean slate to start this roommate thing with.
My cat really enjpoy that place too. Which is just awesome. Altho, once again, she is the new kitty - soon becoming the fat kitty, with the speed in which is  comparible to well.. something embaressingly speedy. silly chubby furball of hair.

scrub a lubbbbb.....rication

its funny how a frozen can of orange punch can really get the ball of rage (the built-up variety. has muuuch more oomph than that regular rage shit) rolling. it helps, of course, if its in the rage's natural instincts to be attracted towards the scent of your blood. that plus YOU standing downhill from it... in multiple positions at once, lined up like the markers on some sorta downhill skiing slalom, helps.
and we all know those markers are only put up there for a reason. not accidentally. never accidentally. There is a good chance that this reason has quite a following on facebook (i mean, dont we all?) and probably has hats and tshirts, at the very LEAST. I don't know about you, but I'd be mighty tempted by merch more uncommonly found at these sort of things. Like Hawaiian skorts. And Very Serious World-Man "action figures" (coff... figurines..) complete with their own distinct "Very Serious" (about gaming) pose and stare.
"Holy eff bomb, World-Man! You just timed out on WOW.. Now what are we going to do???"
Now to get back to the item at hand here.
Don't fuck with my orange punch, mutha fuckah.

I am very serious about that shit. Not as serious as that guy, tho.
Now Joanne will read out the minutes from today's meeting, and we'll see you all next week.

Peace out. Dont forget to scrub.

the evolution of the hipster:

http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/comment/4/2010/10/1c953a1c422b9e6eb4d05117716b0ea2/original.jpg

Its funny because I know a trillion people that can relate. But its way too easy to catergorize people, no?

This is some random thing I passed on good ol' reliable Google, searching for something completely unrelated this. Because apparently, (and unknowingly to me): pain olympics hatchet vs. genitals online.
Who will come out on top, in this years.... uhh... Thermal Sleeping Competition?

Dont question the google-ness. Just accept it.
Trust me; it gets easier.

the countdown. and thats all there seems to be lingering in the air. that, and the impending doom of that unforgiving sickness that's piggy-backing on any suitor in sight. fingers crossed, knock on wood, et cetera.

the keyboard on this laptop is acting unruly and making it so I don't feel like actually explaining things, especially in full detail.

in other news: my mom is engaged, as of her birthday on friday. to her boyfriend. i kinda like the guy. he's alright in my books. more than just alright, actually. he's good to her and he fits right in with the ol fam'. Jayse comes back into Winnipeg on wednesday. I am super excited.

i suppose thats all i will type for now. i'm already sick of it. haha i think

winners FTW!

dearest internet,
i have so much to tell you. Plus I learnt a few really neat facts this week, about how the river in Wisconsin, Ohio, caught on fire oneday. That is a true fact.
These facts:  - They totally knew that this fire was about to happen
                     - Officials had is the river so precisely timed, that when the clocks struck 0 minus 10 seconds, the mayor, and all of his political pals (included was anyone he could think of that smoked a cigar), as well as the local sheriff and a select few men from his precinct... they all opened their lawn chairs and outdoor loungers and pulled their cigars and cigarettes out from their inner breast pockets of their absurdly overpriced jacket. And as they all chuckled amongst themselves while every odd elbow jabbed into every odd ribcage, followed by every odd shifty-eyed, tooth-filled smile. "Last call;" the only two recognizable words above crowd's ale_distorted speech bubble, and mostly-so because of undeniable coherence. The word last referred to the very few minutes that the gentlemen/contenders had left to place their bets on the act they had come to witness. The inside joke amongst them had now been over-done, and their extremely short tempers were beginning to wonder if they had to make an appearance to get this so-called show on the road. 


The first official took a glance to see if spectators and money-investors had stepped back enough paces, and then continued on to tear a match out of his matchbook. Thumb down and swiftly pulling the match away from him, it struck against the sandpaper on the back of the book. Turning the fire in on its own kind, they watched ever-so-silently, as the matchbook in his hand cracked in twenty two different ways and blazed on fire, held high above them all. But not too long, before he let the wind just slightly grab it from him and swoop it onto the river water. 


There was three seconds, two awkward coughts and throat-clearings from a few in the crowd, and a moment in which it looked like everybody had lost on their money on this silly gamble. For the matchbook appeared to extinguish its flames.
But that thought had not enough time to even be thunk in one's brain, for the next blink of an eye revealed not just a few inches, or a few feet. ...but the entire fucking river had caught fire. It looks like there would be lots of winners tonight, and the boy with the coherant voice tried to sort through the crowd of waving arms, desperately clutching their winning ticket. Boy, did they ever win alright....'

ahem... anyways.... THOSE facts? May not be true. But who am I to say?

so yet another infamous "Stuff My Face!" week is in full swing. And I have to say, i am quite stuffed full at this current moment in time. Chalk that as another triumphant win for me and endless spaghetti suppers.

rainbow suspendorisis

as per always, I decide the best time to rant to an internet-united peoples, is when they are fast asleep. Or pretending to be fast asleep, and rolling by a different name altogether, just to stay up until the wee hours playing Bejeweled. While all your snoozers, and boozers, and bejewelerz... are pre-occupied in yourselves, I -wont break the trend- am also consumed by my own activities. And it isn't boredom that causes me to rip out the skin on the inside of my ears (I'll admit; I did wince. Twice. And swore four times).
The headphones are on. The volume has been on mute the moment I plugged these puppies in. I dont even have a song playing, not even Cher. Especially not Cher.
I'd like to take this moment to apologize immensely to the larger percentage of the gay boy population that I know.. for taking what would surely seem like a swing (and a miss..) at their self-proposed birth mother. No offense boys, cuz I know you definitely wouldnt be reading this anyways.
Tomorrow I am going to work up the courage to go and wait beside that guy who is wondering what I have, or what I'd do to get ahead of him in line to see the doctor.. and get first dibs on sanitary pads, saline solution, tongue depressors, and latex-free rubber gloves.
Finders keepers, motherfucker.
Back off - get your own sandwich.

My kitten and furriest love of my life has been slowly coping with the fact that now included in her kitten-tree meals, is the smelly devil known as Apple Cider Vinegar. A few drops every meal to every second meal, pissed her off/ depressed her for a few days... but now her taste has become acquired and she hardly notices. I am doing her a favour. Instead of spraying her with toxins for her fur, or giving her store-grade poisons to keep away any parasites, good ol ACV does it all, and its natural, and it detoxes her system of any bullshit. After doing decades of research, its by-far the best option for her, and cheapest. I'd recommend it to any cat-owner that'd listen.... but I have minimal faith in mankind this week (reason: unknown ), therefore feel as tho you, out there in blog-land, already know my concerns. And as no surprise, yet again, I play the "nobody-actually-cares-to-listen-and-give-two-big-fat-flying-fucks CARD". Full house. I win.
And I walk away from the table, two dollars and fifty cents richer.
HEY, biiiiiig spender. Dig my blender.

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