Just in case anyone still checks up on this crap, I'm just letting you know that I'm trying very hard to update.
The problem is that I just don't have any ideas that seem significant/funny enough, and all I end up doing is bitching, which I'm trying to stray away from.
I could bore you with random updates of my life and make you read stuff that you really don't care about... and thats exactly what I'm gunna do right now.
I'm jobless. I gave the big fuck you to grainfields a couple of weeks ago because I got sick and tired of our new Filipino's incompetence, it wasn't just a language barrier, the guy was just plain and simple fucking stupid. Oh yea, grainfields started hiring Filipinos because they aren't willing to pay good loyal cooks decent money. Another reason why I quit was because the owner is a bad bad man. If anyone meets the owner of grainfields; do me a favor and kick him in the nuts... then stab him in the chest, or shot him in the head, or strangle him, or drown him, or burn him alive, or smother him in his own money that you steal from his pockets... use your imagination, as long as he's dead. He may be super religious and spends more money on his church than on his employees that make him all of his fuck loads of money, but if anything is right in this universe that we live in, and if hell actually exists, I hope to see him burning one day and I will personally jab my dick in his eye then rip his junk off and feed it to every single person that he has fucked over just to make more money in his mortal life so that he'll never be able to fuck his fat bitch of a wife again... God damn hell sounds fucking glorious.
Another thing thats glorious?
A weekend off. I haven't had a weekend off in over a year and a half, and it's everything I imagined it could be. The first weekend off I got super drunk (naturally) and sang karaoke without the threat of me sleeping in and being late for a shitty 7 am shift. And... I did other stuff... that involved me being drunk... and not really remembering what was going on... but it kicked ass, a lot of ass. I've slept-in a lot and I've also played a lot of music. In the two weeks I had off I played 2 shows with 2 different bands, and tomorrow night I have another one. I could live the rest of my life doing this. Except if I were actually doing this for the rest of my life I would also get the pleasure of traveling the country/continent/globe and not being in stupid shit-hole Saskatoon wasting away like the rest of the middle-class populace. God damn being a traveling musician sounds fucking glorious.
What's not glorious?
Women. I sort of blamed my lack of sex on my shit ass job. Why?... Well, when do most people get down with the fuckin? when they're drunk of course, and when are most slutty chicks drunk? thats right the weekends. Well you see when I had to work at 7 am every weekend morning I really never had the option to bring drunk slutty girls home, therefore I assumed that that was the main reason why my penis was drier than the sahara. Turns out this isn't true. Turns out that Dre was right (at least I think it was Dre... to tell the truth I don't care) bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks... and also the ever present handicap of me living with my mom also is a big... handicap... and the biggest reason of all is that I still have no game.
But, I did have game!!! sort of. For about a month I noticed that attractive girls seemed to talk to me more, and it's not because I suddenly got actual game, or lost weight (definitely gained weight... stupid binge drinking) or something like that. It was because I was actually seeing a girl for a while... and I'm totally not lying!!! There was a girl who legitimately thought I was cool. We hung out once or twice a week and things were awesome. But, whenever I was out without her there, it seemed like girls would talk to me. I would even go so far as to say that girls hit on me... There was the PETA girl whom I told that I love steak while wearing a leather jacket... she loved me and I have witnesses! There was some chick who I've seen many times before but for some reason thought I was cool this one and only time... There was this 6 foot 3 chick (who ended up being the girl who pierced my nipple when I was 15... wierd) who started talking to me at the karaoke bar, and other random occasions of bitches not being disgusted with me... For one month I was awesome with the bitches because I had some sort of underlying confidence... yet my penis stayed dry... Kill me now.
Anyway, my lady friend whom decided she liked me... therefore didn't want to be with me anymore in fear that she would ruin things... or some whack reason like that... (women are stupid), hooked me up with a job at Saskatoon Inn... Well thats not entirely true, I also ran into someone who briefly worked at grainfields while at brunch on sunday at the Inn and he basically offered me a job on spot. But I just heard that they would only give me 5:30am shifts (including weekends... fuck that!) and that I'd have to take out my piercings. So it looks like I don't have a job after all, because I'm not willing to change something about myself that I like just to get a super awesome job as a breakfast cook in the super awesome classy world renown Saskatoon in for a whopping $11.60 and hour, which doesn't bother me too much, cause I think I can survive another month without working. I don't want to, and will find a job before then, but I'm not concerned... I just wanna work again so I can get more tattoos and save money so I can hopefully go to Europe sometime in the kind-of-near future.
Well that's my life. If any women are willing to offer something wet to moisturize my dry dry genitalia or know of any that are, it would be very appreciated... if not, then you just wasted your time and mine reading this.
Until next time.
Keep fit and have fun.
Jay.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Grandmas House.
A few months ago me, one of my sisters and both of my brothers went to visit our dear old Grandma. (well she's not actually my younger brothers grandma, but she still treats him like he is... what a sweet little lady) I hadn't seen my Grandma since her 85th birthday about 4 years ago where the whole family got together and had a sort of family reunion/birthday party thing at greenwater lake. She broke her hip soon after the reunion and apparently didn't want to have many visitors while she was in pain. I thought I'd never see her again. But the old hag slowly became comphortable with her situation and once again looked forword to seeing her children/grandchildren.
She looked as I always remembered her... old.
The old bat still had some spunk in her that made her never give up on being independant. She cooked us a huge supper, which as always was made at lunch time, and of course had lots of creamed corn because she knew I used to love the stuff as a kid. When she asked us for help putting out her patio set for the summer, I could tell that she didn't want to ask anyone for help, but since her hip surgery she wasn't able to carry up the table on her own. She only knew she couldn't do it on her own because the crazy prune had already tried carrying it up the stairs from the basement on her own and had dropped it halfway leaving a large crack through the middle, she made us promise that we wouldn't tell her kids that she had tried going into the basement on her own.
After the meal of creamed corn, ham, mashed potatoes (with no gravy... lame) buns and rice, we had some icecream with raspberries (raspberries>strawberries) The icecream must have upset my stomach because I was hit hard. I held it in for as long as possible, but I could hold it no more, so I rushed to ol'grannies bathroom, dropped trou, and unleashed something fierce.
The experience itself was not one for the books, it was, of course, rather loose and wet, which was why there was such urgency, but for a lush like myself that's not anything out of the ordinary. It was the smell and volume that was something to be revelled. As soon as the feces cascaded from my brown eye the putrid scent of my last two meals mixed together with a healthy dose of ass, came rushing into my nostrils and I knew that this was no ordinary visit to the gentlemans room. I made sure to do an immediate courtesy flush hoping that I could flush away most of the lingering odour and be worry free, but it didn't help. A second courtesy flush after another flow of shit of niagra proportions also didn't help, and at this point I was searching around to find some air freshner, matches, or at least some old people perfume, anything that could mask the horrible sin that I just commited in a 89 year old womans house. There was nothing. I wanted to open the window, but I didn't want my dear old granny to try and reach over the bathtub to close it if it got chilly, if the smell didn't kill her now, a bathtub slip surely would later.
After I had finished up and left the bathroom all I could hope for is that if I kept the door closed the smell would not disperse through the house, I was so worried about it that I couldn't even enjoy how great I was feeling after taking a duece of that magnitude, which in any other circumstance I would have been quite proud of, perhaps even taken a picture of with my cell phone. When I stepped out and saw my siblings looking at me I knew that having the door shut would do nothing. They were all very aware of what I had just done and the laughs that they were trying to hold back only faintly disgused the look of sheer disgust on thier faces.
Hanging out with old people is wierd. They will constantly talk about thier friends that have died and it doesn't bother them at all. When your young and a friend meets thier untimely demise it's shocking, scary, sad and it really makes you think about your own mortality. When your old you know your gunna die soon, so when your friends die you know that you could be next... and that's okay. I can't wait till I'm old enough to die and not care, cause once I'm that old I'll finally think to myself... lifes not bad, and I don't think theres a single young person out there who is that happy with thier life. My grandma even said to us "today was a good day, I'll write it down in my calender and read it next week and know that today was a good day... I've had a good life, if I were to no longer be here tommorow, I will die happy knowing that I've led a happy and good life." This coming from a woman who most definitly is not a god fearing woman, who as far as I know is an atheist and when she dies she believes she will rot in the ground... theres something very settling about her attitude.
I think my grandma has lost her sense of smell, because she walked right beside that bathroom several times, and although she would have been too sweet to call out who had just destroyed her home of 70 years in a single lavatorious blow, noone would have been able to have smelled that without losing thier train of thought or stuttered their speech, and seeing as she was a granny, she was prone to walk around alyways talking, whether she was in the same room as you or not, she never skipped a beat. As the decrepit sack of bones showed us around her house with all the new things her kids had done for her to make it easier to live, the smell followed us. She showed us how her washer, dryer and deep freeze were now in the spare bedroom upstairs (the room right next to the bathroom) and the whole time all us grandkids could do is try not to laugh as our grandma never showed any sign of the all too present stink. This went on for several hours until it was time for her grandchildren to leave.
As soon as we got back into my sisters car (which used to be my dad's car... and should have been my car dammit!) we all burst out laughing.
I imagine my dear old grandma must have found refuge in her basement, or ran to find the closest can of lysol or a scented candle or some disgusting old people femeldahide perfume or something, or else she finally keeled over and died.
My grandma did not die. The next time my dad saw her she talked about the good day she had with her grandchildren and she talked about how good we all looked. She loved my long hair and said to my dad, who hates it and my tattoos (I covered up my tattoos just incase my grandma would freak out) "I think it's great that Jason looks different, he's a rocker, and you've gotta have long hair and look different to be a rocker." I love my grandma.
R.I.P. Grandma... well, you know... not yet... but soon.
Jay.
She looked as I always remembered her... old.
The old bat still had some spunk in her that made her never give up on being independant. She cooked us a huge supper, which as always was made at lunch time, and of course had lots of creamed corn because she knew I used to love the stuff as a kid. When she asked us for help putting out her patio set for the summer, I could tell that she didn't want to ask anyone for help, but since her hip surgery she wasn't able to carry up the table on her own. She only knew she couldn't do it on her own because the crazy prune had already tried carrying it up the stairs from the basement on her own and had dropped it halfway leaving a large crack through the middle, she made us promise that we wouldn't tell her kids that she had tried going into the basement on her own.
After the meal of creamed corn, ham, mashed potatoes (with no gravy... lame) buns and rice, we had some icecream with raspberries (raspberries>strawberries) The icecream must have upset my stomach because I was hit hard. I held it in for as long as possible, but I could hold it no more, so I rushed to ol'grannies bathroom, dropped trou, and unleashed something fierce.
The experience itself was not one for the books, it was, of course, rather loose and wet, which was why there was such urgency, but for a lush like myself that's not anything out of the ordinary. It was the smell and volume that was something to be revelled. As soon as the feces cascaded from my brown eye the putrid scent of my last two meals mixed together with a healthy dose of ass, came rushing into my nostrils and I knew that this was no ordinary visit to the gentlemans room. I made sure to do an immediate courtesy flush hoping that I could flush away most of the lingering odour and be worry free, but it didn't help. A second courtesy flush after another flow of shit of niagra proportions also didn't help, and at this point I was searching around to find some air freshner, matches, or at least some old people perfume, anything that could mask the horrible sin that I just commited in a 89 year old womans house. There was nothing. I wanted to open the window, but I didn't want my dear old granny to try and reach over the bathtub to close it if it got chilly, if the smell didn't kill her now, a bathtub slip surely would later.
After I had finished up and left the bathroom all I could hope for is that if I kept the door closed the smell would not disperse through the house, I was so worried about it that I couldn't even enjoy how great I was feeling after taking a duece of that magnitude, which in any other circumstance I would have been quite proud of, perhaps even taken a picture of with my cell phone. When I stepped out and saw my siblings looking at me I knew that having the door shut would do nothing. They were all very aware of what I had just done and the laughs that they were trying to hold back only faintly disgused the look of sheer disgust on thier faces.
Hanging out with old people is wierd. They will constantly talk about thier friends that have died and it doesn't bother them at all. When your young and a friend meets thier untimely demise it's shocking, scary, sad and it really makes you think about your own mortality. When your old you know your gunna die soon, so when your friends die you know that you could be next... and that's okay. I can't wait till I'm old enough to die and not care, cause once I'm that old I'll finally think to myself... lifes not bad, and I don't think theres a single young person out there who is that happy with thier life. My grandma even said to us "today was a good day, I'll write it down in my calender and read it next week and know that today was a good day... I've had a good life, if I were to no longer be here tommorow, I will die happy knowing that I've led a happy and good life." This coming from a woman who most definitly is not a god fearing woman, who as far as I know is an atheist and when she dies she believes she will rot in the ground... theres something very settling about her attitude.
I think my grandma has lost her sense of smell, because she walked right beside that bathroom several times, and although she would have been too sweet to call out who had just destroyed her home of 70 years in a single lavatorious blow, noone would have been able to have smelled that without losing thier train of thought or stuttered their speech, and seeing as she was a granny, she was prone to walk around alyways talking, whether she was in the same room as you or not, she never skipped a beat. As the decrepit sack of bones showed us around her house with all the new things her kids had done for her to make it easier to live, the smell followed us. She showed us how her washer, dryer and deep freeze were now in the spare bedroom upstairs (the room right next to the bathroom) and the whole time all us grandkids could do is try not to laugh as our grandma never showed any sign of the all too present stink. This went on for several hours until it was time for her grandchildren to leave.
As soon as we got back into my sisters car (which used to be my dad's car... and should have been my car dammit!) we all burst out laughing.
I imagine my dear old grandma must have found refuge in her basement, or ran to find the closest can of lysol or a scented candle or some disgusting old people femeldahide perfume or something, or else she finally keeled over and died.
My grandma did not die. The next time my dad saw her she talked about the good day she had with her grandchildren and she talked about how good we all looked. She loved my long hair and said to my dad, who hates it and my tattoos (I covered up my tattoos just incase my grandma would freak out) "I think it's great that Jason looks different, he's a rocker, and you've gotta have long hair and look different to be a rocker." I love my grandma.
R.I.P. Grandma... well, you know... not yet... but soon.
Jay.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Hello World... Warning, long fucking post!
Well this is Jay blogging, and I know that there is a very big chance that noone will read this, but, I'm bored, so I'm going to tell you a little story, and I can see this spawning more stories in the future. The other stories may not always be true, but this one is a true story.
As you may or may not know (you of course being a people that may not actually exist and this could quite possible be a tree falling in a forest) I decided that it was time that I got out of this shit-hole city and go for a short little trip to clear my mind and to escape the desolate depressing drama filled place that we all once called home at one point or another. My sisters have been nagging me for years to visit them in Vancouver, and seeing as it was a free place to stay, with free meals, and most importantly somewhere that wasn't Saskatoon, I figured that would be an ideal destination for myself. Unfortunately I couldn't go during the weekend because of my shitty job which I hate. I went alone, and I don't think I'd wanna go to a club or something on the weekend where I'm gunna try and get laid while I'm stayin with my sisters anyway, thats just weird.
I'm sure many of you have taken a trip out west and have seen Vancouver, but I feel I need to point out the things that I noticed were different than Saskatoon while I was there. First and foremost were the leaves... I couldn't stop looking at them, for one they were still on the trees, ours were falling off at the end of august and the trees are now completely bare and everything is grey and depressing. In Vancouver they have just started to fall off, and all the leaves have brilliant color, I've never seen our leaves turn such a bright color red before here. Also the leaves were huge!!! All of them seemed to be pumped with steriods, yet the trees wern't any bigger than they are here, must be all the rain, they were the size of my face, everyday when I walked to whatever my destination was (I walked alot, which I like) I saw this one maple leaf that was especially large near my sisters apartment, and everyday I admired it's size, and it was my favorite leaf. The last thing I noticed about the leaves is that since it rained so much the leaves would fall then get soaked into the cement on the sidewalks, then the wind or someone sweeping would move them and the would leave an imprint and then a streak following behind it, as if someone was drawing a picture of a leaf blowing so it had a streak following the leaf... cept the imprint of the leaf was the starting point, instead of the finishing point... Think about it and it'll make sense.
Second was the people. My boss calls Vancouver; Hongcouver, and I understand it now, there are simply alot of asians, which isn't a bad thing, just different than our mostly white Saskatoon. The people there all need to relax. People don't stand on escalators, they walk, because that .08 minutes they save not relaxing pays off by them cramming into the first skytrain to get home, rather than waiting an extra 5 minutes for the next one. Since everyone walks where they need to be they seem to be less fat, but the women are less attractive... that is to say that the women I saw in Vancouver were less attractive, I may have somehow avoided the attractive populace because I didn't steer too far away from downtown the whole trip, but I definitly was disappointed... Also everyone seemed to be at least 35 years old... but apparently there were lots of people my age walking around, I'm just delusional and think I'm much younger than I actually am, and people my age much older... I never got ID'd anywhere I went... so maybe I am am old now and I do look like I'm 35 (like I see people in my mind) Every place I drank at had some sort of pale ale on special, so thats all I drank, liquor stores that are all privately owned didn't have GW products, I'm glad to be drinking some right now.
The third thing I noticed were the homeless. Much different than our homeless, I never feel the need to give our homeless money, because they are assholes. If I were homeless I probably wouldn't be pleasant, but vancouver's homeless kind of were. They seem to really appreciate some spare change, and have a somewhat of a sunny disposition, which makes me actually want to help out more. A clever sign is always appreciated too, my favorite one being "$1.26 short of taking over the world" (I gave him $1.50... good luck my friend, good luck.) They also have some pretty rad shopping cart homes, and random tents in random places. This is when I discovered that although I like pictures, I hate taking them, I hate being the guy with a camera taking pictures of things, I'm not sure why; I don't hate that guy, I just hate being that guy. Anyway, if I actually were to use the camera I brought with me I would have taken a series of pictures that I would call "home sweet home" and it would be of all the places homeless people live. I wouldn't have any kind of agenda with it, cause I didn't really feel sorry for them, nor did I think it was funny, I just found it interesting.
Theres many more things that I noticed like; the mountains, the size and volume of major retail stores in compairison to ours (thiers are huge, and I think I saw like 6 different 'claires' that were all huge... why?) cross walk buttons that actually served a purpose, one way streets and general the up-our-own-assness that everyone had even though they most likely came from the same place that we did, they just feel they are more cultured so they walk with thier noses in the air, what happened to being depressed all the time? But I won't get into detail, cause I've already told to what I've noticed the most, and we're quite deep into this blog and I have yet to start telling you a story. A story that won't be read anyway.
I went to vancouver because the combination of my shitty job, the fact that I hadn't left the city in over a year, I'm 22 and I live with my mom, some personal lame stuff and I really wanted to get bitten by the travel bug, and I definitly got bit by the travel bug.
I could go into detail about work, but I'm sure you all know why I hate it, so I'll leave that one alone.
Leaving the city in over a year also has to do with my job. I left the city once this year to visit my grandma in Rose Valley... which is another story in itself... actually I think I'll tell you that one later. But aside from visiting ol' granny (perhaps for the last time) I havn't even gone to a lake or anything, and thats just depressing, fuck Grainfields.
Apparently I'm a mommas boy, actually I know I am, but thats cause my mom is cool. You can ask people, apparently I talk about my mom alot, so I'm gunna try and not to anymore... even though girls have said it's cute, but you know that they think I'm a total loser. At 18 I got the boot from the house and lived with no parents for 3 years, then I got forced to move back in with my mom, and it drives me crazy, because that woman is fucking crazy, she's a 15 year old girl trapped in a 48 year old body (she's actually older, but she looks young,) everyday I get to hear about her relationship problems (with a 49 year old man that doesn't know her actual age)and how much she hates her job, although I know she's much happier working than not working, she just likes to bitch... or maybe just talk, but it's always bitching. I was free for years, and I need to be free again. It's alot easier having girls over when they know you don't live with your mom.
Lame personal stuff of course has to do with women, because I am terrible with women and the sweet kiss of happiness is always cut short when women find out that I'm actually not the badass tattooed rockstar they dream about, instead more of a pussy mommas boy with no money, a shitty car and really no life. Perhaps women just feel like slumming it, then once they get they're fill of rebellion towards thier parents or whatever they go on with thier lives, always regretting. Which would suit me just fine if I were some sort of man-slut, but I'm not, cause I only fall for girls who don't put out, which would be fine too, but the reality of the situation is that I really just wanna eat pussy.
I was definitly bit by the travel bug though. The idea was first put in my head by; suprize suprize, a woman, whom I happened to be crazy about, who happened to stop talking to me, and who happened to be planning a trip to leave for a long time. I suppose her not going being here made the sting of rejection hurt a bit less, but it got me thinking that I wanna go on a trip of my own. I wanna see Europe, I wanna go to penny lane, and I wanna have a cheesey picture of myself on Abbey road. Stay in hostels, get drunk with the irish, smoke weed for the first time in amsterdam and visit my mothers side of the family for the first time. Maybe I wanna see Europe because the girl who decided to become a bitch (but I do not hate her because I promised I wouldn't, and I'm trying to keep the promises that I make) wanted to see Ireland, but her long trip is to New Zealand cause her friends wanted to go there, and maybe I only wanna go on a trip to give a big fuck you to her and send pictures of me kissing the blarney stone in vain. And for an extra fuck you I might go up with her best friend, cause she also has interest in seeing Europe... Not to mention her friend is also gorgeous cause the third huge fuck you would be having sex with her. I figure being in Europe it would be easier to get a chick in the sack if they were all drunk off the romance of being drunk in france off of wine that came from a dispenser like a pop machine in a 7-11.
I would get to see Europe, not work, make that bitch feel like a bitch, and eat pussy... I would be happy. While I was In Vancouver, I came up with a brilliant idea to become happy.
Also I decided when I was in Vancouver that I want to write a book. A book about me, a book about my fucked up family whom I love in every way. I think enough shit has happened that not having it down in writing would be fucked. I know I havn't done the school thing, and I know I'm not a great writer, but I think I can fake it enough to make it decent. Also I've started reading alot of books (which might be why I want to do this now, but whatever) and the stuff I've read has never seemed like it was that hard to write, they just had a good story to write about, and I think I have a good story to write about.
In reality I will probably never write this book, but right now I need something that will make it so I'm not constantly thinking about how much my life sucks. And I don't do anything, One can only watch the same South Park episodes over and over again for so long.
Turns out that really wasn't much of a story as a weird ramble, but hey, fuck it.
Jay.
As you may or may not know (you of course being a people that may not actually exist and this could quite possible be a tree falling in a forest) I decided that it was time that I got out of this shit-hole city and go for a short little trip to clear my mind and to escape the desolate depressing drama filled place that we all once called home at one point or another. My sisters have been nagging me for years to visit them in Vancouver, and seeing as it was a free place to stay, with free meals, and most importantly somewhere that wasn't Saskatoon, I figured that would be an ideal destination for myself. Unfortunately I couldn't go during the weekend because of my shitty job which I hate. I went alone, and I don't think I'd wanna go to a club or something on the weekend where I'm gunna try and get laid while I'm stayin with my sisters anyway, thats just weird.
I'm sure many of you have taken a trip out west and have seen Vancouver, but I feel I need to point out the things that I noticed were different than Saskatoon while I was there. First and foremost were the leaves... I couldn't stop looking at them, for one they were still on the trees, ours were falling off at the end of august and the trees are now completely bare and everything is grey and depressing. In Vancouver they have just started to fall off, and all the leaves have brilliant color, I've never seen our leaves turn such a bright color red before here. Also the leaves were huge!!! All of them seemed to be pumped with steriods, yet the trees wern't any bigger than they are here, must be all the rain, they were the size of my face, everyday when I walked to whatever my destination was (I walked alot, which I like) I saw this one maple leaf that was especially large near my sisters apartment, and everyday I admired it's size, and it was my favorite leaf. The last thing I noticed about the leaves is that since it rained so much the leaves would fall then get soaked into the cement on the sidewalks, then the wind or someone sweeping would move them and the would leave an imprint and then a streak following behind it, as if someone was drawing a picture of a leaf blowing so it had a streak following the leaf... cept the imprint of the leaf was the starting point, instead of the finishing point... Think about it and it'll make sense.
Second was the people. My boss calls Vancouver; Hongcouver, and I understand it now, there are simply alot of asians, which isn't a bad thing, just different than our mostly white Saskatoon. The people there all need to relax. People don't stand on escalators, they walk, because that .08 minutes they save not relaxing pays off by them cramming into the first skytrain to get home, rather than waiting an extra 5 minutes for the next one. Since everyone walks where they need to be they seem to be less fat, but the women are less attractive... that is to say that the women I saw in Vancouver were less attractive, I may have somehow avoided the attractive populace because I didn't steer too far away from downtown the whole trip, but I definitly was disappointed... Also everyone seemed to be at least 35 years old... but apparently there were lots of people my age walking around, I'm just delusional and think I'm much younger than I actually am, and people my age much older... I never got ID'd anywhere I went... so maybe I am am old now and I do look like I'm 35 (like I see people in my mind) Every place I drank at had some sort of pale ale on special, so thats all I drank, liquor stores that are all privately owned didn't have GW products, I'm glad to be drinking some right now.
The third thing I noticed were the homeless. Much different than our homeless, I never feel the need to give our homeless money, because they are assholes. If I were homeless I probably wouldn't be pleasant, but vancouver's homeless kind of were. They seem to really appreciate some spare change, and have a somewhat of a sunny disposition, which makes me actually want to help out more. A clever sign is always appreciated too, my favorite one being "$1.26 short of taking over the world" (I gave him $1.50... good luck my friend, good luck.) They also have some pretty rad shopping cart homes, and random tents in random places. This is when I discovered that although I like pictures, I hate taking them, I hate being the guy with a camera taking pictures of things, I'm not sure why; I don't hate that guy, I just hate being that guy. Anyway, if I actually were to use the camera I brought with me I would have taken a series of pictures that I would call "home sweet home" and it would be of all the places homeless people live. I wouldn't have any kind of agenda with it, cause I didn't really feel sorry for them, nor did I think it was funny, I just found it interesting.
Theres many more things that I noticed like; the mountains, the size and volume of major retail stores in compairison to ours (thiers are huge, and I think I saw like 6 different 'claires' that were all huge... why?) cross walk buttons that actually served a purpose, one way streets and general the up-our-own-assness that everyone had even though they most likely came from the same place that we did, they just feel they are more cultured so they walk with thier noses in the air, what happened to being depressed all the time? But I won't get into detail, cause I've already told to what I've noticed the most, and we're quite deep into this blog and I have yet to start telling you a story. A story that won't be read anyway.
I went to vancouver because the combination of my shitty job, the fact that I hadn't left the city in over a year, I'm 22 and I live with my mom, some personal lame stuff and I really wanted to get bitten by the travel bug, and I definitly got bit by the travel bug.
I could go into detail about work, but I'm sure you all know why I hate it, so I'll leave that one alone.
Leaving the city in over a year also has to do with my job. I left the city once this year to visit my grandma in Rose Valley... which is another story in itself... actually I think I'll tell you that one later. But aside from visiting ol' granny (perhaps for the last time) I havn't even gone to a lake or anything, and thats just depressing, fuck Grainfields.
Apparently I'm a mommas boy, actually I know I am, but thats cause my mom is cool. You can ask people, apparently I talk about my mom alot, so I'm gunna try and not to anymore... even though girls have said it's cute, but you know that they think I'm a total loser. At 18 I got the boot from the house and lived with no parents for 3 years, then I got forced to move back in with my mom, and it drives me crazy, because that woman is fucking crazy, she's a 15 year old girl trapped in a 48 year old body (she's actually older, but she looks young,) everyday I get to hear about her relationship problems (with a 49 year old man that doesn't know her actual age)and how much she hates her job, although I know she's much happier working than not working, she just likes to bitch... or maybe just talk, but it's always bitching. I was free for years, and I need to be free again. It's alot easier having girls over when they know you don't live with your mom.
Lame personal stuff of course has to do with women, because I am terrible with women and the sweet kiss of happiness is always cut short when women find out that I'm actually not the badass tattooed rockstar they dream about, instead more of a pussy mommas boy with no money, a shitty car and really no life. Perhaps women just feel like slumming it, then once they get they're fill of rebellion towards thier parents or whatever they go on with thier lives, always regretting. Which would suit me just fine if I were some sort of man-slut, but I'm not, cause I only fall for girls who don't put out, which would be fine too, but the reality of the situation is that I really just wanna eat pussy.
I was definitly bit by the travel bug though. The idea was first put in my head by; suprize suprize, a woman, whom I happened to be crazy about, who happened to stop talking to me, and who happened to be planning a trip to leave for a long time. I suppose her not going being here made the sting of rejection hurt a bit less, but it got me thinking that I wanna go on a trip of my own. I wanna see Europe, I wanna go to penny lane, and I wanna have a cheesey picture of myself on Abbey road. Stay in hostels, get drunk with the irish, smoke weed for the first time in amsterdam and visit my mothers side of the family for the first time. Maybe I wanna see Europe because the girl who decided to become a bitch (but I do not hate her because I promised I wouldn't, and I'm trying to keep the promises that I make) wanted to see Ireland, but her long trip is to New Zealand cause her friends wanted to go there, and maybe I only wanna go on a trip to give a big fuck you to her and send pictures of me kissing the blarney stone in vain. And for an extra fuck you I might go up with her best friend, cause she also has interest in seeing Europe... Not to mention her friend is also gorgeous cause the third huge fuck you would be having sex with her. I figure being in Europe it would be easier to get a chick in the sack if they were all drunk off the romance of being drunk in france off of wine that came from a dispenser like a pop machine in a 7-11.
I would get to see Europe, not work, make that bitch feel like a bitch, and eat pussy... I would be happy. While I was In Vancouver, I came up with a brilliant idea to become happy.
Also I decided when I was in Vancouver that I want to write a book. A book about me, a book about my fucked up family whom I love in every way. I think enough shit has happened that not having it down in writing would be fucked. I know I havn't done the school thing, and I know I'm not a great writer, but I think I can fake it enough to make it decent. Also I've started reading alot of books (which might be why I want to do this now, but whatever) and the stuff I've read has never seemed like it was that hard to write, they just had a good story to write about, and I think I have a good story to write about.
In reality I will probably never write this book, but right now I need something that will make it so I'm not constantly thinking about how much my life sucks. And I don't do anything, One can only watch the same South Park episodes over and over again for so long.
Turns out that really wasn't much of a story as a weird ramble, but hey, fuck it.
Jay.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Short Post.
I've heard rumours that they might raise Saskatchewans minimum wage to $10/hour. Needless to say... I'll probably kill someone if it happens.
If you wanna get ahead in life, whip out that dick and start fucking people over.
Jay.
If you wanna get ahead in life, whip out that dick and start fucking people over.
Jay.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Jay and I, not surprisingly, disapoint
Duncan, i signed up for 311 and the prof said its no problem i gotta miss those classes so SIGN YOUR ASS UP FOR THAT
finals are done and then i will post some mind boggling stuff.
finals are done and then i will post some mind boggling stuff.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Jay Quickie #1.
I was watching Miss America the other day.
I think that there should be a nude competition...
Because the Miss America that I imagine doesn't have pancake nipples.
I think that there should be a nude competition...
Because the Miss America that I imagine doesn't have pancake nipples.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Dear Austin, Other Assholes
Thank you for voting conservative even though it was painfully obvious they didn't give a shit about Saskatchewan, reflected in the past budget which Ralph Goodale called "the biggest suckerpunch since Todd Bertuzzi," in which promises made regarding equalisation were not followed through.
Thank you for voting conservative so they could axe a bunch of great environmental programs and then institute new, crappier ones and call themselves "environmentally conscious:" a tax levi on fuel inefficient vehicles when gas is 1.03? Genius re-allocation of government resources
Thank you for voting conservative so they could suck the Bloc De Quebecois collective dick to gain their support (even though they are a federal party posited entirely on the idealology of seperation) and cater to their needs while leaving the maritimes and praries out to dry because, well, our votes just plain don't matter.
Thank you for voting conservative so they could give families with kids a couple hundred bucks back but not raise the lowest tax income bracket which, kids or not, has so many people at the poverty line struggling to survive.
Why does it seem that the political parties are so out of touch with what the people of Canada really want?
Easy: The people of Canada don't know what they want. We've got idiot kids on campus wondering why there is a shortage of professors and why the Anthropology depeartment (among others) are going to be amalgamated when they have been campaiging for a tuition freeze every year for the past several years
Here's a tip from the friendly members of the commerce college: people don't shit money
Its hard to imagine so many (supposedly) smart, educated people can be so unerringly stupid. Its almost disheartening. Its enough to make you want to give up on this great country, move to Fiji, and sell wooden sandals to Canadian and American tourists for an inflated price and live in a grass thatched hut drinking coconut milk with your ethnic wives named loopah, koko, and carol (she came from alaska to work as a geologist) and laugh at the eduated, suit wearing, ipod-listening, fancy car driving suckers who still find themselves the most civilised people in the world and democracy (read: oligarchy) the world's greatest invention
Rick Mercer for Prime Minister
Thank you for voting conservative so they could axe a bunch of great environmental programs and then institute new, crappier ones and call themselves "environmentally conscious:" a tax levi on fuel inefficient vehicles when gas is 1.03? Genius re-allocation of government resources
Thank you for voting conservative so they could suck the Bloc De Quebecois collective dick to gain their support (even though they are a federal party posited entirely on the idealology of seperation) and cater to their needs while leaving the maritimes and praries out to dry because, well, our votes just plain don't matter.
Thank you for voting conservative so they could give families with kids a couple hundred bucks back but not raise the lowest tax income bracket which, kids or not, has so many people at the poverty line struggling to survive.
Why does it seem that the political parties are so out of touch with what the people of Canada really want?
Easy: The people of Canada don't know what they want. We've got idiot kids on campus wondering why there is a shortage of professors and why the Anthropology depeartment (among others) are going to be amalgamated when they have been campaiging for a tuition freeze every year for the past several years
Here's a tip from the friendly members of the commerce college: people don't shit money
Its hard to imagine so many (supposedly) smart, educated people can be so unerringly stupid. Its almost disheartening. Its enough to make you want to give up on this great country, move to Fiji, and sell wooden sandals to Canadian and American tourists for an inflated price and live in a grass thatched hut drinking coconut milk with your ethnic wives named loopah, koko, and carol (she came from alaska to work as a geologist) and laugh at the eduated, suit wearing, ipod-listening, fancy car driving suckers who still find themselves the most civilised people in the world and democracy (read: oligarchy) the world's greatest invention
Rick Mercer for Prime Minister
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)