Post. Post post post, post. Postpost.

I feel singularly uninspired to do anything other than lay in bed and stare blankly at my ceiling, right now. Have, for the past few days. Haven’t actually done so because that whole “wallowing” thing can be done just as well subonciously, while making money at work, or picking out family Christmas presents.

Last night, though, when I got off my second shift, I did find myself sitting in my car staring blankly out the windsheild, until my cell phone rang. (It was, by the way, the newly-homosexual guy from highschool days of getting mangled with friends…he called to tell me about the feild of gnomes he was passing on his way to visit his boy in Kissimmie.)

I was wildly jealous, for about half a moment.

Okay, more like several full moments.

One of Shawn’s friends is supposed to come up to Fiddler’s after I get off work to have a few drinks. He’s slightly skeptical of the prospect, since the argument and all, but I’m past the point of caring to pussyfoot around. We hang out all the time, and nothing is going on, has gone on, and will go on, and I’m not even sure if it matters, the way things are. Just ’cause there was a totally unrelated mess of whatever size….oh, fuck it. That paragraph doesn’t make any sense.

Season’s coming in, incidentally. Tourists galore, work has been packed lately. I’ve still got some xmas shopping to do, but the fact that my speeding ticket was only $120 when I called to pay it (VISA check card over the phone, the answer to all of my prayers) helps. I guess the cop either took pity on me and forgot to input that it was in a school zone, or there was some kind of clerical error, or…I dunno, something, but whatever, that’s 150 more than I thought I was going to have this month, thank God.

Been having awful dreams for the past few days. That’s not cool, either.

*sigh* I really give up even trying to post, actually. It isn’t quite working out right now. Anything to push the Thanksgiving shit further down, but nevermind. Flame on, assorted freaks and disgruntled porno-ssiers.

sombody plz post thx

For you, from me: Janked from BAMF’s Pie Forum:

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http://Led:Zeppelin@www.hardcoreasiasex.com/members/
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Continue reading

Tch.

A fine time for the lot of YOU to start posting. Yeah, that’s right. Pseudo-boycotters and PRETEND-TO-BE-LAZY-BASTARDS.

Completely ruined my significant and well thought out political statement.

And I spent all me money on whiskey and beer…

Personally, I could give a rat’s ass about Canada. But that’s just me.

I ended up doing the whole weekend with the parents thing; Shawn’s, that is, not mine. Meaning that on Saturday night, I also got to partake in the birthday festivities of an 8-year-old-girl. Meaning I babysat for much of the night.

This one little kid tripped me out; you know the type…the one whose babysitter brought him along with her own kids, ’cause his parents are alcoholic white trash and he doesn’t get out much. 5 years old, dressed up in a one-piece Buzz Lightyear suit, and so goddamn goofy, he just didn’t know what to do with himself. Besides that-

Jesus, this music is distracting me.

Okay. So. …Actually, y’know what, fuck all this. You’re all about as interested in a boring story about retarded kids as I am in hearing about new clique websites for Canadians and cutesy misspelled domain names.

Halloween was several days ago, but we’ll recap mine now:
1. Speeding ticket
2. Bring car to shop for cracked head gasket
3. Clean, mop, wipe, dust, vaccuum and wash all day
4. Shawn comes over
5. Watch Shawshank redemption
6. Go to Fiddler’s w/Shawn
7. Prove once again what an embarassingly fragile lightweight I am
8. Come home, get put in bed, wait until he goes outside
9. Sneak into the bathroom and pass out on the floor
10. Argue with him that “I LIKE IT HERE DONT TOUCH ME ITS CLEAN I SWEAR”

He actually managed to get me back in my room, but the whole “onto the bed” thing wasn’t going to happen; you know the point you get to where there’s nothing you can do or think to tell the bed to stop spinning? Yeah.

…Yeah. The second story didn’t turn out much better.

I’ll return you now to your regularly scheduled “Canadian OMG I’M SURFING THE INTARWEB High School Jabbering ” programming.

Edit: Bugger the lot of you, really. I like Liz. I like Liz’s site. I didn’t DIS-like Liz’s post, it just didn’t interest me. I’m sure SHE could give a rat’s ass about many of the things I post about. Chill. The “candee” thing, though…I meant that. Try to deny that it’s a cutesy, misspelled domain name.

I need a cigarette.

Do not pass Go, pay the city of Orlando 270 dollars.

Happy Halloween, boys and girls.

In other news: Jam Master Jay from Run-DMC shot and killed in his recording studio. (Link from Yahoo!News.)

Edited because I don’t feel like making a new post to go overtop this one:

On my way home from Cooca Beach this morning, I got a speeding ticket. Speeding in a school zone, no less. At 8:30 in the morning. By a motorcycle cop who, no lie, was a dead ringer for the bumbling cop in Magnolia with the cokehead girlfriend.

…I’m really, really upset, and significantly poorer, once I send the bastards a check, but I realized as I was driving (slowly) away that all things considered, I really did deserve to get it. I’ve gotten out of so much shit, so many stops and traffic violations, and even a hit-and-run (technically, that’s what it was; I hit a Sears truck and tried to dip city–he caught up with me and we gained the attention of an idle police officer a few miles down the road) …all because, in the county I grew up in, my father is a detective with the Sheriff’s department, and my brother in law is also an officer. My grandfather was Highway Patrol, and that helped too. I guess living several counties away, now, it all just finally caught up with me.

Blech.

Another pointless update.

I think my roomate (the one I like) has strep throat. Wonderful. Now everything in the apartment is contaminated with germs, and we’ll all get sick, and possibly get scarlet fever or something.

Whooping cough. I don’t know.

My first day off work in eight days, and since I closed last night and got home around 4, I proceeded to waste it by sleeping until 2, then finishing up “Choke” by Chuck Palahniuk. (Medical school dropout sex addict with an insane, bed-ridden mother, makes money by choking on food in restaurants, etc. etc.) Pretty good book.

So Shawn’s cousin turns 9 this weekend, and his parents decided to do a haunted house/birthday party whatever thing for her…I’m reasonably sure I’m going to have to go help out and watch a bunch of germy little girls run free like a herd of antelope through their house. Please God, let someone call in sick so I have to work and miss the fun. …Yeah, I’m going to be a great teacher. Perhaps this is a career choice I should rethink.

So, in regards to that last update, the one from Meg…

What’s the difference between a 25 year old man seeing pictures of a minor’s chest (fully clothed) and being interested enough in the prospect of what’s underneath them to ask for pictures of your tits…versus a man of unknown age, assumed to be “old” who sees and wants the same thing? I mean…they’re both older. They’re both strangers. They both want to see underage boobs. So why giggle at one, or blow it off like it’s nothing; but call the other a pervert?

I’m not ragging on anyone, nor insulting; Meg’s updates are interesting, and I read her page occasionally. I just don’t get the distinction.

We’ll close this one up with a link to soft porn of some weird-looking chick who forgot to clear off the stubble before getting in front of a camera:

http://sign31.sixeven.com/ATK211002/KIKI/51panties4/page_04.htm