Canadian Psycho

Don’t invade my personal space

The soft sounds of a JVC boom box could be heard in the background. I don’t know what song it was, but it definitely wasn’t from my CD library.

I’m wearing a blood covered apron from cutting up ribs. Pork juice covers my hands and the 10-inch knife that easily tears through the flesh. I’m midway though the job when an old kids in the hall sketch appears in my mind.

You know the one where they hang themselves outside the banker’s house because she didn’t give them a loan. “You don’t like us do you? That’s why you won’t give us the loan.” The pair drone. “Are you sure this is the right house?” The one asks the other.

I start to chuckle. A grin crosses my lips. It’s right than I take a quick glance behind me and see one of the servers staring at me with a frightened look I’m all alone in the kitchen. It’s then I realize how I must look like some crazy psycho.

Just to freak her out more, I pretend to have a facial tick and just stare at nothing without blinking for minutes on end. I tell stories about my latest visit to the psychiatrist and what kind of medication I’ve been prescribed.

It’s great fun.



Where have I been since my last post?

Wouldn’t you all like to know? I’m just going to say peyote is a blast. Everyone should try some. Don’t and I mean don’t mix it with pez. Those hard sugar candies should be illegal.



My muscles are bigger than yours

One of the blurry, drug induced evenings, I found myself at the Back Alley. It’s a great white trash rock n’ roll nightclub.

I’m on my way to the door when I see a tough guy. One of those guys that won’t budge an inch when there’s clearly not enough room for two people to pass, but if both people turn sideways all is good. This guy wasn’t going to be that considerate. Neither was I. I puffed up and laid the shoulder into him. He wasn’t as tuff as he looked. I knocked him right over into the guy beside him and like dominoes the next two people also stumbled. The third person turned and started swinging.

I walked a little further and turned around to see the fight I started. I will give the Back Alley staff some kind words. Its bouncers were there in no time.



Ouch! screams my wallet

I’m in the process getting an Albertan license plate. The first step is an inspection. Wow, did that ever cost a lot. I’m hoping they turned it into a time-traveling, hover car like in Back to the Future. I heard chicks dig hover cars.



Don’t tell me what to do!

Last week, I had a cold. Peyote kills the immune system. I thought I better cook up some chicken noodle soup. I’m chopping up some veggies and other ingredients when one of the roommates comes to talk. He starts telling me how I should make the soup.

You know if he was a super cook who had won more than 50 per cent of his Iron Chef battles, I would take his advice. He isn’t I started to get a little pissed off.

That’d be like me telling him how to suck dick. Something I know nothing about and something, I’m sure, he has mastered on the street corner of whore alley. Eat a dick! I’ll have a bowl of soup.



Sad news

My mom sold her ducklings. She bought a pair of ducks a year ago. They hatched 10 babies in the spring when I was up there. Cute little fuzz balls. They grew up and were too much, so my mom got rid of them. Where did they go? Some restaurant in Calgary. If I go out and order duck, I could be eating the cute little guys I watched hatch. Not cool.

The Note

I found one-third of a note on the ground outside my store one day back in May. No idea where the other pieces went, but I guess that's our meagre and regrettable existence for ya, eh? I had the intention of posting it to the blog back then, but as is typical of me I forgot. But as luck would have it, I found the note wedged between the pages of my Chinese textbook. Here are the inspirational words in all of their glory:

...if you want to have an awesome summer i'll give it to ya! haha.

anyways i was thinking and you should breakup with justin b4 its to late because i want you to have SOO MUCH FUN this summer and 4 you to be able to do watever you want not worrying about fuck head!!

he keeps you waiting! and that's...

And so ends our peek into the personal life of a rough-and-tumble oil-rig worker!

For more found note goodness, visit FOUND Magazine or the Found Notes Community of LiveJournal.

The Future Is REALLY Friendly

Two points that need to be cleared up so that all members of our admittedly meagre audience can understand this post:

1. In the mens bathroom in any given public centre, there are advertisements that hang on the wall right above the urinals. It's actually sort of clever from a marketing standpoint, due to the fact that guys will rarely glance around while they're taking a piss. The company's got the rapt attention of a consumer for about 10 - 30 seconds. One poor soul vented his rage by scrawling "JUST LET ME FUCKIN PISS" on an ad. I was impressed, most of the culture jamming that occurs here involves somebody doodling a penis next to a model's mouth.
   
   
2. One of the most loathed companies in all of Canada is Telus, the default choice for telecommunications in many areas of the country. In fact, Canadians would have risen up and slain this grotesque bureaucracy if it wasn't for one small thing:
   
   
   
   Their advertisements have cute animals in them.
   
   OMG LOOK AT DA KEWL MONKEY LOL AWWWWW!!!
   
   ...
   
   Sorry.
   

Let's begin! So one day I was... accessing the facilities at school and I noticed something very peculiar about the advertisement. It was for Telus Mobility's new SPARK service, which I have absolutely no clue about, apart from the fact it involves games of some kind. Anyways, it features a cute lil' songbird perched on a wire with its back towards the viewer, with the bird's head coyly turned around. In big letters above is written, "Swordfight?"

Now, I find this goddamn hilarious, and I guarantee you soon will as well. Just follow these two simple steps:

1. Think, nay, FOCUS on where this advertisement was located.
   
   
2. Click here to look up the definition of swordfight in the Urban Dictionary.
   

So... hmmm... ummm...

Yeah.

The Gangster of Love

What would you do if you were shoved off to jail for 10 years for a crime you didn't commit? How many pushups would you do? How would you arrange your cell? Would you get - or be - a prison bitch? Man, all I know is that after 10 years in prison, one would be eating steel and pissing nails. And if this one that I'm alluding to used to be a Yakuza enforcer who willingly took the fall concerning the murder of his boss, then we should have a surefire recipe for badassery!

Well, according to Yakuza, the new PS2 game by Sega... maybe not.


You see, when one picks up a game like this, with the big fat M-Rating on the box, one expects certain things. One expects to see asses being kicked. One expects to see hot girls in various states of undress. One, in general, expects to feel like an all-around concrete-eating asphalt-shitting hardass. What one DOESN'T expect to see is a mission titled, of all things, "Save The Puppy!"

Yep.

Save The Puppy.

This is not a slang term for anything. You actually have to run to a store and buy dog food to feed a sick puppy.

...

Screw it, this is the best game ever!

Time Since Last Cigarette: Seriously, who the fuck knows?

Duh duh duh duh this box is blank and I need to fill it up and how should I do this I ask you in an incredibly unbroken sentence moving from topic to topic in an incredibly unbroken sentence moving from topic to topic in an incredibly unbroken sentence moving from topic to topic...

Quite hypnotic.

Honestly, at this point, why do I even bother openin' my frickin' mouth?

spin spin spin

Time Since Last Cigarette: 61 hours

LOOOOOOOOVE IS COOOOOOOOOOL
STAAAAAAAAY IN SCHOOOOOOOOL

*thirty minute drum solo*

I Withdraw My Argument

Time since last cigarette: 14 hours

My skin has crawled itself right off my body, and I can't concentrate one whit. Just keep your eye on the prize. You won't feel like this forever...

Self-Love in an Elevator

Hmmm... studying my bottle of Nestea I mistook "Ca garde au frais" to be "Ca garde au farts". Although the original phrase translates to "Keep in a cool place" I interpreted my mistake to mean "This guards against farts". Which, as you might know, would be entirely necessary for me.

Mmmmmm...

So kids, I hate to drag you away from all the trauma being spilled out from the freshly-reopened wound -- namely, the birth of Britney Spear's second child -- but I simply have to relate my latest tale of woe. For you see, last night, for over an hour, I was...

...TRAPPED IN AN ELEVATOR!

Gasp and horror!

Yep, there I was, with two nubile and gorgeous young woman, trapped in a confine space. To make matters even worse, I was on my way to have a cigarette when the elevator crapped out. Have you been in an elevator when it goes CHUGGACHUGGACHUGGA then drops a foot and bounces? Of course not, this kind of stupid shit only happens to me.

So what can you do when something like this happens? You press the help button and find out the person on the other end is in Connecticut, and thus can't dial 911 on your behalf. The joy of outsourcing!

As it turns out, one of two girls (I seriously wasn't kidding about the girls) has as her major phobia dying in an elevator crash. Naturally, she was beside herself. Luckily, her friend was there to calm her down. As they remarked later, it was a good thing the level-headed gal was there otherwise the other girl would have ended up peeing herself in the corner. I almost took offense at this subtle attack on my commanding and soothing manliness, but then shrugged when I realized it was true.

So what to do for an hour? Well, they had a cellphone and phoned their friends. It turned out the two girls were RAs, so every other RA was crowded around the elevator door soon after. Thus began the eerie affair of using a cellphone to communicate with people who we were only kept separate from by a steel door. The once-anxious RA started to draw a crayon picture of the affair. I was rather flattered by the amount of hair she gave my portrait.

Anyways, the elevator people (from Otis -- what the hell kind of name for a company is that?) soon fixed the problem and we found ourselves in the basement. Apparently I was the only student to ever set foot there... but at what staggering emotional cost?

Free! I was free! God, to be away from the two absolutely stunning women who, as was casually mentioned, weren't wearing any underwear! To have my cigarette! To fill my lungs with nicotine!

During the time I was trapped in the elevator, it had begun to downpour.

Well, fuck.

Patience. Patience! Patience. Patience!

Greetings, children!

How did your summer go?

Did you go somewhere exciting?

Did everyone make you lose your mind? Up in there, up in there?
Did everyone make you act a fool? Up in there, up in there?

Good, good. Anyways, I'm back in class now and guess what I have to do for marks this term?

A puppet show!

Discuss the insane awesomeness of this new development.

*whispers* Wonder Showzen...