Clever Title Goes Here
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
i'll try to recreate it. but you know, when the moment is gone, it's gone.
apparently i'm too sarcastic.
apparently i'm too negative.
maybe i should have one positive day.
i could pretend that i don't live in the world.
and then people could be happy.
they could smile, and we could say "how are you" and not care what the answer is.
automatic.
maybe everything is automatic.
the people who know me least know me the best.
that wasn't how it was. but that's how it is now.
meh.
another day.
i'm half way through my little 6 day work stint. it's not so bad anymore. the weird thing is, part of me wants to go to the gym tonight. which is lame, because my brain doesn't want to, but my body does. stupid body.
anyways, i get the key to my new place tomorrow, but i won't be able to move in right away, because i have to wait for steve to get his mom's blazer thing. i guess i can't complain about it, but i was secretly hoping that i'd be able to move in there tomorrow. blah blah blah.
writing this thing sucks.
my life is boring.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
the manson show was alright.
weirdos all over the place, but i suppose that was to be expected.
only, the weirdos were mostly weird old men. old drunk men who felt the need to chit chat with me.
the opening band, crystal pistol, are apparently from vancouver. and they were slightly amusing. i felt like i was watching some gothed out version of the ramones with some iggy pop mixed in for good measure.
i liked it. i'm not sure if they have a record out, because i can't seem to get into DiePopstar.com to find out the info on these kids.
so right now i'm hanging out, waiting for the third episode of the 6th season of sex and the city to finish downloading. i know i'm bad, but i just can't wait until september to watch them. stupid HBO and their non-canadaness.
went to playland today, with the peoples from work. it was good times. i surprised myself and went on the hellavator. it wasn't nearly as bad as the old rickety rollercoaster. i feel like that thing ought to be shut down. i felt like such a cheap ass because i didn't bring any money and my boss ended up buying me a pop. $3 for a freaking fountain pop. i mean, the cup and drink combined probably cost them a whole 5 cents, and yet they can get away with selling it for $3. evil. and in the same vein, i have to head down there again tomorrow to fill out some forms so those boobs at the PNE can steal money from me for the union. good times.
Friday, July 11, 2003
so the canucks are keeping brad may.
i suppose there are worse things. i'm sad that the klatter signed with LA, but such is life. well, such is hockey. there's a lot of talk about this whitney character but nothing has happened so far. meh.
tonight is the manson concert. i'm still amused by the fact that i'm going alone. i'm hoping it won't be bad... i dunno. some people seem to be impressed that i'm going to go alone, but... it'd be more painful for me to miss it than to go alone. who knows, maybe i'll meet new people or something. ah, who are we kidding...
i'll let you all know how it goes.
for now, i'm kinda tired. nap time.
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
the official drunk post starts here:
if i manage to make it through here with no spelling mistakes, that will be an accomplishment.
i have reached a new low. getting drunk on the internet. i remember grade 9, and them telling us that getting drunk alone was a sign of depression. did getting drunk at lunch time count?
i have no idea.
it's funny to think that only a few years ago i was young, stupid, and drunk. from the outside it's easy to wonder why there are so many teen pregnancies in grande cache. from the inside, it isn't so complicated.
sometimes i wonder how i got out alive. look at doreen, look at chrissie. married and divorced by 22, and 2 kids by 21. how did they get there? even better, how did i get here?
the story of my life.
you think you're going to do something good, something to be remembered.
then you get tired and do the 2.2 kids and a dog and a fucking white picket fence.
what does it take to get out of western civilization?
fucking america. fucking canada. fucking cowards.
fucking 12:49am and nothing of real value to say, anyways.
fucking, indeed.
